


Rehabilitation Rat

by rockergrrrl743



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), Fall Out Boy, Green Day, Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-02 09:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14542119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockergrrrl743/pseuds/rockergrrrl743
Summary: Party Poison wakes up in a small white room in a small white bed. he doesn't know where he is, what is happening, or even who he is. Little does he know that he's been held hostage by Better Living Industries, and to them he's nothing more than a guinea pig they can run through all the tricks and tests they want with his mind nothing but a clean slate. One minute he's in the room. The next he's out free. Then he's in another prison. Then he's being force-fed pills. He's running from the people who claim to be his parents, but for all he knows (or would know had it not been for Better Living's drugs) they're just trying to get him back in that room. Before he knows it he comes face to face with the members of his crew. But that's only because better living wanted him too. All he can rely on are his jumbled up thoughts that are a mix of blank spots and intense flashes of memories. And even if he does get free, how will he know for certain that it's not just another trick up his captor's sleeve.





	1. Wake Up In A Small White Bedroom With A Small White Bed

Party Poison woke up in a white twin sized bed.

In a white twin sized room.

Without the brother he doesn't know he has.

His form sunk into the foot thick memory foam mattress that the stiff white sheets and comforter bind him to. He pushed himself up only to bang his head against the white wooden headboard. He would have cursed in his head if it wasn't just a blank slate. Instead, the only thoughts that spun around his head were;

   I   ?    w  
m         h  
   a         e  
     e    r

 i g     w  h  
  n            a  
  e               t  
  p            i  
p  a  h    s  
  
I      w  
I         h  
I            o  
I          a  
I     m

To his right was a small rectangular window that was white.

________________________________________________________  
I But                                                                             I  
I All                                                                                  I  
I He                                            I  
I Could See                                                                             I  
I Outside                                                             I  
I_______________________was white_____________________I

 

He shuffled until he was

( Out )  
( Of )  
( His )  
(. C a c o. )  
( o. o. )  
(. n. )

A confused moth.

In a world without color.

 

His black boots planted on the white ground as icy air flowed in and out of his mouth. His eyes scanned the white room. It was no bigger than the average size of a guest bedroom.  
______________________  
I                                 I  
I 70                             I  
I Square                     I  
I Feet                          I  
I To Be                      I   
I Exact              I  
I____________________I

 

It seemed to have no door. But that didn't stop his curiosity from getting the better of him. The sharp clicks of boots echoed along the plain walls as he stepped around the room. He splayed himself across the ice cold surface of the left hand wall and shifted along. He shivered as he moved himself across the next wall. Wearing nothing but a plain white tshirt and a pair of white jeans, it seemed that something was missing.

 

【L】【I】【K】【E】 【A】 【J】【A】【C】【K】【E】【T】

ФЯ

ℂøℓøЯ⸘⸘⸘⸘

soclosebut

S                                                    O                                             F                                                                         A                                                                           R

 

He kept on pushing and pushing against the wall with all his might, but no matter how hard he tried nothing would budge.

 

Eventually he gave up.  
\-- (--------------------------=' ------ -------.  
' .Eventually he sat down                                                
'-----------\/'-. ---- `--"'-------------------.---  
| |\\\ |  
| Eventually he walked back to bed. |  
`----------------------------------------a:f---  
[_] [_]

 

Still asking those three questions.

 

   I   ?    w   
m         h   
   a         e   
     e    r

 i g     w  h   
  n            a   
  e               t  
  p            i  
p  a  h    s  
  
I      w  
I         h  
I            o  
I          a   
I     m


	2. Day Two In The White Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I realize Now that reading on a phone changes the way the text looks when I make the text spiral. The first set of jumbled up text says “because his thoughts spiral with color” and the last set says “dying a killjoy is better than living a Rat”

~~ⒹⒺⒶⒹ ⓅⒺⒼⒺⓈⒶⓊⓈⒺ~~

~~ⒷⓁⓊⒺ ⓁⒺⒶⓉⒽⒺⓇ~~

~~ⓇⒺⒹ ⒽⒶⒾⓇ~~

~~[̲̅w̲̅][̲̅h̲̅][̲̅e̲̅][̲̅r̲̅][̲̅e̲̅][̲̅a̲̅][̲̅m̲̅][̲̅i̲̅][̲̅w̲̅][̲̅h̲̅][̲̅a̲̅][̲̅t̲̅][̲̅s̲̅][̲̅h̲̅][̲̅a̲̅][̲̅p̲̅][̲̅p̲̅][̲̅e̲̅][̲̅n̲̅][̲̅i̲̅][̲̅n̲̅][̲̅g̲̅]~~

~~ⓅⒺⓄⓅⓁⒺ ⓈⒸⓇⒺⒺⒸⒽ~~

~~ⓂⓊⓈⒾⒸ ⒷⓁⒶⓇⒺⓈ~~

~~[̲̅W̲̅][̲̅H̲̅][̲̅O̲̅] [̲̅A̲̅][̲̅M̲̅] [̲̅I̲̅]?~~

Party Poison woke up.

He heard a drawer rattling.

At first he saw nothing. Then he saw a figure walking towards the wall across from him.

 

His eyes blinked.
    
    
    ██████████████████████████████
    ██████████████████████████████
    ██████████████████████████████
    
    
    ██████████████████████████████
    ██████████████████████████████
    ██████████████████████████████  
    
      
    
      
    
    

When he opened them, the figure was gone.

 

 _That was your mother_ a voice in his head said.

 

It was dull and monotonous.

 

It was cruel and malicious.

 

It was cold and condescending.

 

The words traced up Poison's spine and wrapped around him like a vine of metal, its tendrils sinking into his being. The voice made him feel queasy. But that didn't stop him from believing it.

 

 _It's just my mother._ he thinks

 

But its not him 

         e    B                     H               s  T                  S                    W                       Ⓒ

      a              e         s            i        t       h           l        p         h       i               Ⓡ      Ⓞ 

      u           c                               h        o            a       I                t                    Ⓞ    Ⓛ

             a                                           g                   r

 

_These thoughts were just colorless lines._

 

 He looked behind him to see a white nightstand with a white lamp. The lamp had a dull yellow glow coming from it even though the LED lights that made the room blindingly white rendered it useless. Sitting next to the lamp was a white pill bottle.

 

Poison got up from the bed and picked up the bottle.

 

All that was on the pill bottle was a black smiley face.

 

 _Take them._ the dull,malicious,condesending voice ordered.

 

_They're from your mother._

 

Poison's colorless thoughts that were only lines agreed, but he didn't take the pills. Something inside of him made him set the pill bottle on the nightstand.

 

_Your mother gave these to you_

 

_You don't want to make her angry do you?_

 

_You don't want to be a failure?_

 

The voice pressed.

 

Poison ignored it and sad back down on the bed.

 

_You should take the pills, after all you don't want to make mother angry right? Much less be a failure?_

 

His boring thoughts echoed. He felt himself get up from the bed to obey his thoughts, but something stopped him. And he still didn't know what.

 

_You're sick_

_All your mother wants to do is make you better_

_you need these pills to make you happy_

_to make you smile_

_to make you perfect_

 

_If you don't take the pills you will die_

 

The last thing the voice said made chills go down his spine. He didn't want to  _die_ did he?

 

 

           D                               y     K            I                   B                T                    L                                     R

                y        A             o           i          s            r          e        n        h       g         i       A        A           t     a

      g         i                         j        l                          e        t              a           n            v      s

           n                                   l                                  t                                      i

 

His colorful thoughts encouraged. He missed his colorful thoughts. He had a feeling that if he took the pills then his colorful thoughts would go away so he listened to the colorful thoughts and ignored the pills. He sat back down on the bed and eventually dosed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I realize Now that reading on a phone changes the way the text looks when I make the text spiral. The first set of jumbled up text says “because his thoughts spiral with color” and the last set says “dying a killjoy is better than living a Rat”


	3. Day Three In The White Room

ⒹⒶⓋⒾⒹ ⒷⓄⓌⒾⒺ

ⒸⓄⓁⓄⓇⒻⓊⓁ ⓂⒶⓈⓀⓈ

ⒹⓎⒺⒹ ⒽⒶⒾⓇ

ⒶⓃⒹ ⒿⓄⓎⓇⒾⒹⒺⓈ

_Exterminator's orders_

_Drac Masks_

_Scarecrow Attacks_

_And Gun Shots_

ⒷⓁⓄⓃⒹⒺ ⒽⒶⒾⓇ

Ⓘ ⒽⒶⓋⒺ Ⓐ ⒷⓇⓄⓉⒽⒺⓇ?

ⓌⒽⒺⓇⒺ ⒾⓈ ⒽⒺ

ⓌⒽⒶⓉ ⒹⒾⒹ ⓎⓄⓊ ⒹⓄ ⓉⓄ ⒽⒾⓂ?

_Blood Spill_

_Gun shots_

_Screams of pain_

_Someone help_

**ΔŁŁ Ɨ ҜŇØŴ ƗŞ ŦĦΔŦ Ɨ ΔΜ ŦĦ€ €Ň€Μ¥**

**Ħ€ŁƤ**

**Ɨ'Μ ØŇ ŦĦ€ ŴŘØŇǤ ŞƗĐ€ Ø₣ ĦƗŞŦØŘ¥**

 

Party Poison woke up when he heard shrieks of pain. 

 

I             Y                 F

        s     t     r         o         y       a

                         u               l       m

                                              i

~~I have a family?~~

 

      Y               Y            D      

            e              o       o

     s                 u

   

      r

  e      R            T           N

  b       e      m       h      o

m       m          e             ?

    e

 

Party Poison squeezed their eyes shut and tried to.

ⒷⓁⓄⓃⒹⒺ ⒽⒶⒾⓇ

ⓇⒶⓋⒺⓃ ⒽⒶⒾⓇ

ⒷⓇⓄⓌⓃ ⒽⒶⒾⓇ

 

ⓈⓌⒾⒻⓉ ⓀⒾⒸⓀⓈ

ⒺⓍⓅⓁⓄⒹⒾⓃⒼ ⒷⓊⒾⓁⒹⒾⓃⒼⓈ

ⒽⓄⓉⓌⒾⓇⒺⒹ ⒸⒶⓇⓈ

 

ⓀⓄ-

Poison's eyes flew open when he felt a shock against their neck. 

 

Well, it was more than a little zap that ran under his skin, something they would have been used to despite not knowing such. It was like whoever was behind him had laced live wires into their nerves and twisted the voltage dial to a thousand. His body convulsed as the electric charge pulsed through him. To say it had hurt was an understatement. It felt unnatural, like whoever was doing this do him had bent the laws of reality just to see him in pain. 

 

A scream tore his throat raw as his shoulders surged up to his neck. His head was swimming with so many questions as black splotches spotted his vision. The stench of his own flesh assaulted his nostrils and made him gag. The odor was awful and acrid with a musky sweet edge. He convulsed relentlessly as a deep guttural animal noise poured out of the bottom of his gut. He tried to curse with words he didn't remember ever learning and begged for the pain to stop. But all that came out was incoherent screeched that seemed to only edge his tormentor on. 

 

His head felt light but heavy as more dark splotches started to take over his vision. But right when he was about to allow the sweet relief of unconsciousness envelope him in its dark waves of nothingness, the device used to shock him was pulled away from his neck and a needle was jabbed into the back of his forearm. 

 

He let out a howl of pain, and for the first time in three days he actually speaks, "Dammit I hate needles!" he raved. His jaw careened with rage and pain. He felt the burn of the fluid entering his bloodstream and hissed. 

 

~~Since when did I hate needles?~~

         Y             s     A             H           s   N         

              o        y          l       d      a     e         e

        u                a     w        e      t     l        e

                                                            d

 

      J

t        u

     s

 

 

       L

  e        i

       k

 

 

       H

           o

       w

 

 

       Y

           o

        u

 

        A

    s         l 

   y          w

       a

 

         C

     s       u

          s

         

 

        W

    n       h

       e

     

 

       y

       r

 

       i

       n

 

 

       P

   n        a

       i

 

 

The fluid that was pumped into his bloodstream sent adrenaline pouring through his veins and made the world icy and crisp. He could feel all the sensations in his body. The burn and ache of his neck. The sting of the giant syringe that was still pumping chemicals into his body. The pounding of his heart against his chest. The beads of cold sweat that formed on his brow. All the hairs on his body standing on end. It was like all the horror stories and party stories told about drugs wrapped up into one torturous moment. 

The syringe emptied itself and for a split second he had a moment of relief. Until whoever was behind him yanked the syringe out of his arm with no regards for his safety. Poison's hand flew to the small hole in his arm that had a stream of blood flowing from it in order to stop the pain.

 

"Fff-f- _fuuuuuuuuck!"_ he shrieked as he squeezed his aching arm.

 

He heard the sound of heals clicking on tile as whoever had been doing this to him walked in front of him. It was a woman in a white pencil dress with cold grey eyes. She had perfect porcelain skin that made her look like a doll. One that would shatter if it made contact with the harsh heat and radiation of the desert. Her black hair swept just at her jawbone. One look at the dark raven locks and Poison was in another world.

 

ⓇⒶⓋⒺⓃ ⒽⒶⒾⓇ

ⒼⓇⒺⒺⓃⒾⓈⒽ ⒽⒶⓏⒺⓁ ⒺⓎⒺⓈ

ⓉⒶⓉⓉⓄⓄⓈ

ⓅⒾⒺⓇⒸⒾⓃⒼⓈ

He felt the woman's hand collide with his cheek and he jumped back to reality, "Language, Gerard!" she spits. Her needle point pupils are full of rage and her teeth are bared.

 

They slumped, "That's not his name," he mumbled.

 

~~What is even happening? Why am I spacing out so much?~~

    e   y              n    g      R

    r       o            i                  e

        u                   r                      m

                               e   b    m      e

 

The woman let out a scoff and crossed her arms, "Out of  _all_ the things we got out of that pretty little head of yours and you're still going by that silly alias," she spat.

 

Just like his colorful thoughts had told them, Party poison was once again spacing out as he started to remember the life they came from.

 

Ⓦⓗⓐⓣ ⓣⓗⓔ ⓕⓤⓒⓚ Ⓘⓢ ⓦⓡⓘⓣⓣⓔⓝ

ᴛʜᴇ ғᴏᴜʀ 'ᴊᴏʏs ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪɴᴇʀ

Ⓐⓛⓛ ⓞⓥⓔⓡ ⓨⓞⓤⓡ ⓟⓡⓔⓣⓣⓨ ⓕⓐⓒⓔ

ʙᴜᴛ ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ's ᴇʏᴇs ᴡᴀs ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀ ᴢᴏɴᴇ ʀᴀᴛ ᴡʜᴏ ʜᴀᴅ ᴊᴜsᴛ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴀɴ x ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇ ʟɪᴅ. ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴇʀᴍᴀɴᴛ ʟᴀʏᴇʀ ᴏғ ᴇʏᴇʟɪɴᴇʀ. 

Ⓣⓗⓔ ⓖⓐⓟⓢ ⓘⓝ ⓣⓔⓔⓣⓗ

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ʜᴀɪʀᴇᴅ 'ᴊᴏʏ ɢᴀᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴀ sᴍɪʀᴋ, ʀᴇᴠᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴛᴏᴏᴛʜ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴅ ɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ ɪɴ ᴀ ʙᴀʀ ғɪɢʜᴛ

Ⓣⓗⓔ ⓓⓘⓡⓣⓨ ⓝⓐⓘⓛⓢ

ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ sᴀᴜɴᴛᴇʀᴇᴅ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴏʀᴛᴇʀ ᴍᴀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅᴇᴅ ʜɪs ᴀʀᴍs ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʜɪs ɴᴇᴄᴋ. ʜɪs ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʟᴇᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀ sʜᴏʀᴛ ʟᴀᴜɢʜ ᴀs ʜᴇ ɢʀɪᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ's ʜɪᴘs, "ɢᴏᴛ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ɢᴀᴍᴇs ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴘᴏɴʏ?"  ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴜʏ ᴛᴇᴀsᴇᴅ

Ⓑⓐⓑⓨ ⓑⓞⓨ,

"ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ," ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ ʀᴇᴘʟɪᴇᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛʀɪᴄɪᴛʏ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴡᴀs ɴᴏ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ.

ⓨⓞⓤ ⓒⓐⓝ'ⓣ ⓚⓘⓛⓛ ⓦⓗⓐⓣ'ⓢ ⓕⓤⓒⓚⓘⓝⓖ ⓡⓔⓐⓛ

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ᴇʏᴇs ᴀɴᴅ sᴜᴅᴅᴇɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ғᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜʙᴛʟᴇ ʜᴜᴍ ᴏғ ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛʀɪᴄɪᴛʏ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙᴇᴇɴ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ sᴜʀɢeɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ʟɪɢʜᴛɴɪɴɢ sᴛʀɪᴋᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴏᴛʜ ғᴇᴇʟ ɪᴛ. ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ's ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴅᴜɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ 'ᴊᴏʏs ʜᴀɪʀ ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀᴛᴛᴏᴏᴇᴅ ᴀʀsᴏɴɪsᴛ's ɢʀɪᴘ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴡᴀɪsᴛ ᴛɪɢᴛʜᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀɴᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ.

Ⓣⓤⓡⓝ ⓣⓗⓐⓣ ⓢⓞⓝⓖ ⓓⓞⓦⓝ

ɪᴛ ғᴇʟᴛ ᴀs ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪɴᴇʀ. ᴘᴏɪsᴏɴ ɢʀᴀʙʙᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅ ᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴡɪsᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ ᴅᴏᴡɴ sᴏ ʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ɪɴ. ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴇᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ.

Ⓣⓤⓡⓝ ⓣⓗⓔ ⓢⓣⓐⓣⓘⓒ ⓤⓟ

ᴛʜᴇ ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛʀɪᴄᴛʏ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛᴇʜᴍ sᴜʀɢᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ sᴛʀᴜᴄᴋ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴏғ ᴀ ʟɪɢʜᴛɴɪɴɢ sᴛᴏʀᴍ.

Ⓒⓞⓜⓔ ⓗⓔⓡⓔ ⓑⓐⓑⓨ,

ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴇʀɢʏ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇɴsɪғʏɪɴɢ ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍsᴇʟᴠᴇs ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀɴʏ ʟᴏɴɢᴇʀ.

ⓛⓔⓣ ⓜⓔ ⓚⓘⓢⓢ ⓨⓞⓤ ⓛⓘⓚⓔ ⓐ ⓑⓞⓨ ⓓⓞⓔⓢ

ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʟɪᴘs ᴄʀᴀsʜᴇᴅ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴀ ɢɪᴀɴᴛ ʙᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴘᴀssɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴠᴏʟᴜᴛɪᴏɴ.

 

"Gerard!" The woman snapped again, her hands slammed against a metal cart full of syringes, the thing that electrocuted Poison, and other equipment that he knew was for nothing more than to make his confusing life miserable. The tray rattled and crashed together, filling the white room with an unsettling noise. 

 

"Y-yes?" he stuttered, they just now realized that he was trembling like a leaf and soaked in sweat.

 

 _You really should pay attention to your mother, you know,_ his colorless thoughts appeared as if from nowhere.

 

 _Otherwise you'll have to receive more shocks as punishment for your disobedience_ the dull, condescending, malicious voice continued. 

 

A smirk cracked across Poisons face. 

 

                      y      k

                 k             i

                          n       

His colorful thoughts quipped. 

 

 _Inappropriate comments like that shouldn't be tolerated._ His colorless ones corrected. 

 

"Do you know who I am?" she inquired.

 

 _You know who she is,_ the colorless thoughts teased him no matter how much he didn't want to say it. He but his lip until he felt it split open.

 

"M-my mother," he grimaced as blood poured from their lip. He felt their cheek ache from the slap he received earlier, probably now a few shaded black or purple. 

 

The woman crossed her arms, "Correct," she smirked as she picked up the bottle of pills from his bedside table.

 

She leaned down to Poison and shook the pill bottle right next to their ear. He winced, the sound made their head feel like a knife was being put through it. She cackled at this and twisted it open, dumping about five or so pills into her hand then setting the bottle back down. She took one of the white pills in between her short fingernails polished ghost white and placed it on his lips.

 

"Take this pill," she ordered.

 

Suddenly the old Party Poison, the one he didn't remember, seemed to come crashing back. He snapped at the woman, having taken the pill in between his teeth, and spat it right back in her face.

 

"Fuck you," they spat. 

 

Before he could realize what was happening the woman pulled a chrome white ray gun out of a holster she had hidden and shot him right in the chest. A pulse of electricity shot through his body from the singed spot on his otherwise all white t-shirt. It didn't feel as intense as the shocks he had earlier received, but boy did it hurt. His body shuddered as he felt the unnatural pulse of energy surge through his nerves and up his neck. The Pain reached his eyes and suddenly a bright white that made his brain hurt took over his vision. His head throbbed in pain like he had been struck in the back of the head with a rock.

 

His lips moved as he attempted to mumble, "D-dd-destroya," in shock but to the woman all that came out was a painful groan.

 

Out of nowhere the light vanished and the white room snapped back into his reality.

 

"Language," the woman snapped.

 

 _Rebellious actions will be punished Gerard,_ the dull condescending malicious voice warned.

 

The woman got back up to walk over to the white nightstand to get another pill.

 

"Not to mention," she began as she sauntered back towards Poison, "No matter how much...  _Lust,"_ she grimaced as she said the word, "You may possess in that corrupted brain of yours, I will not fulfill your lude desires," she continued. She grabbed a white leather rollie chair Poison didn't notice was there before and sat down in it.

 

  
"After all, I'm not that terrorist accomplice of yours, what's his name? Frank Iero I believe..." she taunted.

 

"Who's Frank Iero?" Party Poison blurted out. 

 

      Y 

           o

        u

 

 

      F

t           o

 o         r

       g

 

 

 

     W

         h

       o

 

 

       F

 k          r

   n      a

 

 

 

       R

   y         e

    l         a

          l

         

 

 

        I

        s

        ?

 

 

His colorful thoughts panicked.

 

~~Why? Is he someone important?~~

~~ⓇⒶⓋⒺⓃ ⒽⒶⒾⓇ.~~

~~ⒺⓍⓅⓁⓄⓈⒾⓄⓃⓈ.~~

~~ⓉⒶⓉⓉⓄⓄⓈ.~~

~~ⓈⓄⒻⓉ ⓁⒾⓅⓈ.~~

~~ⒻⓊ-~~

_He's a terrorist._ _He's caused the destruction of many important buildings and has killed many innocent dracs and exterminators._

 

 

~~What's a drac?~~

 

All of these thoughts happened in just a split second before the woman-

 

 _Your mother,_ the colorless thoughts corrected

 

-smirked coldly, "I guess we have improved our tactics since the last time you've been here," she realized.

 

"Is he someone I know?" Poison continued, even though he knew that it was stupid to ask questions from the woman who was torturing him.

 

But it looked like letting his colorless thoughts get the better of him was worth it because that question made the woman panic. Her eyes widened in fear as she blurted in a frenzy, "No he's not! Now take your pills before I administer more electric shocks necessary to your rehabilitation!" 

 

Enjoying how the tables had turned, Poison continued. 

 

"Did he have black hair? And tattoos?" he prodded.

 

The woman had was now squeezing his arms and up in his face, her face red with rage and the pills sitting on the little metal cart of medical equipment.

  
"Take the pills! Take the pills!" She continued to screech like a banshee. 

 

The more Poison talked about this Frank Iero, the more he started to remember.

 

"Didn't he have one tattoo of an x over his eye? And he was rather short, right?" he continued

 

"Take the pills now! For the love of God!" The woman dug her fingernails into Poison's arms and slid them slowly down. This left behind shallow cuts along Poison's arms that had blood seeping from them. Poison looked to notice that his skin was quite tan for someone who hadn't been outside in a long time.

 

"Why is my skin so tan? Does it have something to do with that green-hazel eyed Frank Iero? He made bombs, right?" he continued to tease, trying to hide the fear he had of being locked in a room with a person so intense and with access to so many weapons. 

 

The woman was done with Poison's bullshit. She grabbed the handful of pills she had left on the metal tray table and lunged onto him. Poison cried out in shock and tried to grab one of her arms in order to fend himself but she knocked his head on the back of the headboard.

  
 _"Shit!"_ Poison yelped as his mother continued to attack him.

 

She had him pinned to the bed with one of the pills in between her fingers. Poison squeezed his lips shut with all his might but it was no use. His mother forced his lips open with her razor sharp fingernails and shoved one of the pills in between his lips.

 

 _"TAKE THE PILLS!"_ she screeched, her eyes were wild with rage and insanity as she pressed her finger down onto the pill and forced it down Poison's throat. The pill tasted like a plastic that would dissolve at any moment and stuck to Poison's tongue without any water. It carried down his throat in the form of a thick lump because he was forced to swallow it dry. The pill left behind a bad tang in his mouth, like he hated popping pills dry because of a bad incident he had delt with years ago. But when he turned to his colorful thoughts there was nothing but white.

~~Where are you?~~

~~Come back!~~   
  


~~Comebackcomebackcomeback.~~

 

~~Please come back!  
Ineedyou~~

 

~~Ican'tlosemyselftowhateverhellI'mtrappedin~~

 

The effects of the pill was almost instantaneous. It made the world softer and blurrier around the edges. It's not that the pills made Poison want to comply with the woman, it's that the pills made him realize that fighting against her wasn't the most of his worries. That the task of rebelling against his Mother was almost mundane. 

C  

      o                  B        

 m e                   ack

 

o

 C      l

orful   

 

 

T h  ~~o~~

~~u            ghtttttttttt~~

 

~~Who is Frank Iero?~~

~~What is this song I have stuck in my head?~~

~~Ineedtoknowthesonginmyhead~~

 

~~What does turn this sound down turn this static off come on baby let me kiss you like a boy does mean?~~

 

~~What song is it from?~~

 

~~What band is it by?~~

_Those are lyrics from a band made up of a bunch of rebelious girls who didn't know their place in society. They had the dillusion that women didn't need men to be happy and that men didn't need women to be happy. They thought that women could be happy with women and men could be happy with men and they could mix and match and be with whoever they please. They were wrong. That's why they're also being rehabilitated._

 

~~But I was happy with a man.~~

~~And I'm a man.~~

~~I don't want to be with a woman.~~

~~I want to be with~~

 

~~SHit.                                                 Is that whoFrankIErois??????~~

~~shit.~~

 

_Don't use such fowl language and you weren't happy with that man. he tricked you into thinking you were so he could use you for his own disgusting desires. He's a terrorist. he;s killed innocent people. even if he was a woman you couldn't be happy with someone that destructive._

~~WHere are my colorful thoughts.~~

_Color and emotions are unecesary distractions and must be eradicated in order for society to progress._

~~WHat did you do to my colorful thoughts?~~

_They were eradicated and so will these rebelicious thoughts in order for you to be safe to be reintroduced into society._

~~wherearemycolorfulthoughtsgivemebackmycolorfulthoughtsyoubitchwherearetheygivethembackgivethembackgivethembackwhereismybrotherwhatdidyoudotomyfamilywhatshappeningtofrankandthebrownhairedmechanicwhatdidyoudotothem?????????????~~

 

 

Poison didn't know when he fell asleep but it was sometime after he took the pills, the entire time he continued to wrestle these thoughts and try to get his colorful ones back.

 

 


	4. Shattered Window And The Glass Prison

Ⓝⓔⓔⓓ②ⓔⓢⓒⓐⓟⓔ

_Poison sat on his bed facing the small white window_

 

 

Ⓦⓗⓔⓡⓔⓐⓡⓔⓣⓗⓔⓙⓞⓨⓡⓘⓓⓔⓢ

 

 

_He licked his split lip in order to dull its sting and crawls across the bed until he can reach the white lamp on the nightstand_

 

 

ⓓⓘⓓⒾⓤⓢⓔⓓⓣⓞⓗⓐⓥⓔⓡⓔⓓⓗⓐⓘⓡ

 

 

_They snatched the lamp up in his hand and yanked the lamp from wherever it was plugged in. He felt the small traces of colorful thoughts begin to seep into his mind._

 

 

Ⓦⓗⓞⓣⓗⓔⓕⓤⓒⓚⓘⓢⓕⓡⓐⓝⓚⓘⓔⓡⓞ

 

 

_He spun the lamp upside down until he was holding it by the lampshade and shifted back to where the white window was._

 

 

Ⓦⓗⓐⓣⓓⓘⓓⓨⓞⓤⓓⓞⓣⓞⓜⓨⓑⓡⓞⓣⓗⓔⓡ

 

 

_Before his colorless thoughts could stop him, Poison swung the lamp stand at the window. And then he swung again, again, and again._

 

Ⓦⓗⓔⓡⓔⓘⓢⓜⓨⓕⓐⓜⓘⓛⓨ

 

_Slowly, the glass begin to crack and splinter. This only fueled Poison’s rage._

 

 

Ⓦⓗⓐⓣⓘⓢⓗⓐⓟⓟⓔⓝⓘⓝⓖⓣⓞⓜⓨⓕⓐⓜⓘⓛⓨ

 

 

_He began to punch at the glass and it seemed to fall away slowly but also be indestructible all at once. If that was even possible._

 

ⓦⓗⓞⓔⓥⓔⓡ ⓘⓢ ⓓⓞⓘⓝⓖ ⓣⓗⓘⓢ 

 ⓘⓛⓛ ⓕⓘⓝⓓ ⓨⓞⓤ 

ⓐⓝⓓ ⓓⓔⓢⓣⓡⓞⓨ ⓨⓞⓤ

_Poison got up from his bed and picked up the entire fucking nightstand. His arms burned with the weight, given he was never known for being a bodybuilder or anything._

 

 

ⓣⓗⓐⓣ ⓦⓐⓢ ⓜⓞⓡⓔ ⓙⓔⓣ'ⓢ ⓓⓔⓟⓐⓡⓣⓜⓔⓝⓣ

 

Jet??? Who’s Jet???

 

 

_He threw the nightstand at the window and watched it shatter into a million tiny pieces. He smirked._

 

ⓡⓐⓥⓔⓝ ⓗⓐⓘⓡ.

Ⓔⓧⓟⓛⓞⓢⓘⓞⓝⓢ

. ⓣⓗⓔ ⓢⓜⓔⓛⓛ ⓞⓕ ⓢⓜⓞⓚⓔ.

 

 

_The nightstand fell onto the bed and Poison walked up to see what was behind the window. What was there made him scream._

 

 

Ⓦⓗⓔⓡⓔ ⓐⓡⓔ ⓜⓨ ⓕⓤⓒⓚⓘⓝⓖ ⓒⓓⓢ

 

_Standing in the hole where the window once was stood a scarecrow, its mask boring into Poison's hazel eyes. Poison tried to stumble back, "W-What tge fu-"_

 

 

**~~【I】【N】【E】【E】【D】【M】【Y】【J】【A】【C】【K】【E】【T】【W】【H】【E】【R】【E】【I】【S】【M】【Y】【J】【A】【C】【K】【E】【T】~~ **

 

 

_He was cut off by the Scarecrow lunging for him and grabbing him by the throat._

 

ŴĦØƗŞ₣Ř

ΔŇҜƗ€ŘØ

 

 

_He choked and gagged at the Scarecrow's hands locked around his throat and dragged him into the hole in the wall. His neck ached as acid shot up his throat only to be choked on. The warm bitter liquid tasted sour in his mouth._

 


	5. Shattered Window And The Glass Prison part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So ao3 is being really glitchy and for some reason won't post any of the words I type in this chapter so here's a link to a google doc I pasted the chapter in: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-7QIOTTNA1H3IdUDCa_FGjtVFT--bSBM9W2jI0V1e3Q/edit?usp=sharing

 So ao3 is being really glitchy and for some reason won't post any of the words I type in this chapter so here's a link to a google doc I pasted the chapter in: [Shattered Window And The Glass Prison Part 2](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-7QIOTTNA1H3IdUDCa_FGjtVFT--bSBM9W2jI0V1e3Q/edit?usp=sharing)

(I'm only able to type really short things like this and publish them, idk why, I've contact Ao3 support about it though so yeah) 

 


	6. Failed Tests 1 And 1.5

When Poison came too, it was much too soon for his liking. His head throbbed, his throat was raw from screaming, and his eyes hurt from the sting of the bright LED lights that dragged him back to reality. He shifted around in what he  _ expected  _ was what could be considered his bed, so when he felt nothing but hard concrete and tile under him he panicked. 

His eyes widened as he jerked fully awake. He looked around his surroundings as his hands shifted around wildly like some weird form of echolocation. The events from yesterday slowly started to crawl back into his mind and then he remembered where he was. He dragged a hand through what he considered extremely fucked up hair, “Shit,” he spat loudly without a care in the world of who heard.

 

Another headache rippled through his skull and he squeezed his eyes shut.

 

_ Language like that is not tolerated in Better Living Industries. It depicts lude and inappropriate behavior, promotes violent and rebellious outbursts, and validates unnecessary emotions.  _ The dull, condescending, malicious voice prodded.

 

Are you ever gonna fuck off? I thought the damn pills wore off already.

 

_ Pills have nothing to do with the issue, Gerard, these are your own thoughts correcting your own behavior telling you the correct thing to do. Or in other words, it’s working  _

 

That last thought made Poison sick. And before he knew it he was bending over in his glass tube cell retching up this weird clear acid shit. His throat burned and his stomach ached from having to push up so much  _ gunk.  _ His hands planted on the ground as he continued to retch, his head spun a little and the thought of  _ His Mother  _ having him like this on security footage only made his stomach clench more. 

 

His hand reached back to pull away his hair, when he remembered that the long locks were gone and replaced with what felt like a mass produced wig sewed to his scalp. His vision blurred and he wanted nothing more but to collapse asleep again, but the acid throttling up his throat forced him awake. He coughed and his throat parted at the perfect angle for a glob of stuff to fly out of his mouth and onto the ground. When he got a look at it, he prayed that this was nothing but a nightmare.

 

b̴̧̡̛̛͖̱͍̝̙͓̟̫̠͓̾͌̑̍̓̔͑͐́̀͋̈́̓̾̏̓̀̏̉̑̆́̈́̇͒̃̍̊̐̑̄̓̆̓͑͆̋̿͆͂̔͋͆͒̍͐̇͂͊͆̐̍̐̃͋́͌̃͛̂̐̅͘̕͜͠͝͝͠͠͝͠͝L̷͚̥̞̈́̌̇͑͛̔̎̌̎͐́̇̎̊̍̍́͛̓̄͑̉̐͂̓̀̋͛̈́̄̔̈́͂͂͊͗͋͋̎̿̂͂̿́́̆͂̑̋̀͊͊̂͋̄̔͐̓̑́̌̂͘̕̚͘͝͝͠͝͠͝)̸̨̧̧̧̛̛̬̥̲̭͙̟͇̗̥̜̺͔͉̹̞͎͎̞̻͍͈͔̰̮̹̝̤̬̤̌̾͆͊͒͗̅̋̂̆̄̿̓̈́͌̍̀̒̾̓̀̃̂̋̾̔̅͂̄́̾͒̈̈́̓̀̉̉͊̀̾̎͆͐̃̑͊̅̉͑͌̿͒̍̄͋̌̕͘̕̕͠͝͠͝(̴̢̨̨̡̡̧̧̞̖̭̫̯̩̣̤̮̪͍̼̬̯̤̺̲̺̱̲̪̦̥̹̙̬̺͎̫͕̻̲̥̹̩͍̺̪̪̩̣̟̰̲͖̟͉̭̯̺̱͕̣̰̠͖͔̱͍̘̞̻̫͍̪͍̥̓̋̎̌̈́̉̈́̑͌̀̐͗̇̍̏̈̌̏̒͗͑̅̓̊̾̆̔̚̚͜͝ͅḑ̴̡̢̛͇̻̩̩͈͇͚̺͙̤̭̗̝̺͇̣̻̞̫͖̳͎̠͈̺̞̹͍̖̍̌̆͂͑̔͌̉́̄͑̍͑̈́̒͌͑̂͂̾́͆̏̽̾͘͘͜͜͝. 

 

He drew a breath so sharp it made his side hurt and his vision began to blur again.

 

Ⓢⓨⓝⓣⓗⓔⓣⓘⓒ ⓐⓝⓘⓜⓐⓛⓢ ⓛⓘⓚⓔ

₦ɆVɆⱤ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₳ ⱧØ₥Ɇ

Ⓘ'ⓜ ⓝⓞⓣ ⓣⓗⓔ ⓞⓝⓔ ⓨⓞⓤ ⓦⓘⓛⓛ ⓑⓔ ⓦⓐⓛⓚⓘⓝⓖ ⓣⓗⓡⓞⓤⓖⓗ

₳₦Đ ł₣ ɎØɄ ₭łⱠⱠ Ⱨł₥ ₣ØⱤ ₥Ɇ ₩ɆⱠⱠ,

, ⓣⓗⓔⓝ Ⓘ'ⓛⓛ ⓚⓘⓛⓛ ⓗⓘⓜ ⓕⓞⓡ ⓨⓞⓤ

 

His head was spinning. 

 

Not this shit again

 

 

Poison was torn from his stupor when the door to his tube prison slid open with a bald man standing behind it. He was tall, had tanned skin, and was wearing a gray coat with a frilly white shirt under it. When he stepped into Poison’s cell it seemed that he had an air of boastfulness about him. Poison didn’t know why, but that really pissed him off. 

 

The man leaned down so he was just a bit taller than Poison and lifted his chin with his fingers. Poison was forced to stare into his black abyss eyes that gave him the chills. His stomach twisted with terror and spite. 

 

The bald man smirked at Poison’s debatably pathetic state, “You clean up well,” he mocks.

 

Poison swats at him with his hand, his fingernails scratching the man lightly. The man’s arm jerked back just enough so it was out of Poison’s grip.

 

“Fuck you,” Poison spat. 

 

The man clicked his tongue and got back on his feet, “Language,  _ Gerard,”  _ he purred on the name that everyone in that place seemed to call Poison.

 

“That’s not my name,” Poison murmured.

The man locked his fingers around Poison’s throat and yanked him off the ground. Poison choked and flailed as he tried to escape the man’s grip, but it was like fighting concrete.

 

“Yes it is, and you better remember that unless you want to receive further punishment,” he snarled, his dark eyes boring into Poison’s skull.

 

The man dropped Poison on the ground. Poison yelped as his bruised figure slammed against the hard floor, the collision made his side hurt like a bitch. Just as the man began to sweep away, Poison tried to make a snappy retort.

 

“Kin-”

 

The bald man whipped around with an eyebrow arched, “Hmm?” He inquired.

But it hurt too much for Party to finish what he wanted to say. He let himself collapse onto the ground and rest, he let out low raspy pants like a dog on a hot summer day.  

 

“I’ll inform  _ Your Mother  _ of your awakening,” the man said as he continued walking down the hall, the tube prison closing behind him. 

 

Poison let out an agitated groan as he tried to shift around his cell. He didn’t realize how accustomed he had grown to that small white room he was in. Though he hated to say it, he kind of missed it. 

 

At least it had a decent bed

 

_ That’s what you get for failing test one. And The Exterminator was sent in to check on you after failing test one point five  _

 

What’s an exterminator?

 

_ You’ll find out  _

 

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̷̛̭͔̤̟̫̃̎̊̏͌̊͗̿͒͘ ̷͎͍̲̲̟̟̳̖͙̮̬̙͔̠̪̄͊̿̈́̎́̚͘͝Ⓘ̵̛̖̺̗̽̽̀̋̎͘'̸̨̥͓̳͙̺̩̟̻̖̺̤͛͒̌́̆̏̂̚͠ⓜ̸̡͖̩̺̲͎̫̙̬͍̯̫͉͖̓͂̈́̈́̉ ̵̨͖͖̤͖̻͍̯̽͊̆͐̅̌̉̄̃̂̕͜ⓝ̸̡͚͚̹̣̃̃͛̍͊̈̽͐͑̚̕ⓞ̸̢̗̪̻̲͙̖̥͌̾̀̔̎̉̊̒͘͠ⓣ̶̢̡̡̛̘̥̬̼̜͎̲̣̞̜͓̪̂̀͋͛̎͛̎͋͝ ̴͖̹̭̘́̊̉̊͑̀̾̿̿͊͛̈́̀̉ⓣ̶̡̱͍̥͓͖̲̯̿̈͊̽͋͛ⓗ̴̧̢̛̠͙͇̳̲̪̪͕̃̀͠ⓔ̴̨̳̙̣̼̙̼͖̮͓̪̀̄ͅ ̴̛͉̔̃̔͐̌͒̃̊̍͘ⓞ̵͍̪͖̰̲̥̄̔̓͋͐͒͗͆̕͜ⓝ̶̣̭͚̝͗̇́̾ⓔ̴̢̏̍̀͘ ̷̬́́̽͝ⓨ̴͎̗̀̄ⓞ̷̨̻̬̭͙̘̬̇̾͌́̂́͑͜͜͠͠ⓤ̶̡̡̨̝̬̰̬͔͚̯̖̤͙̳͌́̐́̽́̍͑͌̀̀̈́̈́̓ ̶̢̧̠̤̲͔̳̯̪̠͈̫͂͆̀̅͂̄̊̂͜͝͝ⓦ̵̤̞̝̥̱̦̀̈̓͑̏̄͂̅̾͠ⓘ̸̰̻͎̹̞̬̹͍̠̉̽̃ⓛ̵̩͓͔͎͇͖͇̹̫͌̍̉͌̏ⓛ̷̧̨̛͓̖̺͎̱͈̬̺͔͇͕̫̼̂̽̄̍̔̏̋̂̾̈́͂̿̃ ̸̧̩̩̟̹͓͎͚͂̃͝ⓑ̴̢̹̣̋͒ⓔ̷͎͎̫͉̠̣̅̒̏͆̑̆͂̽̓̏̋͆͊͘ ̴͓̲̪͚̰̘̩̻̺̗̣̪̈́̔̊͆̈́͂̌̏ͅⓦ̸͖̱̓̌ⓐ̵͇͍͉̝̲̎̊̏̃́ⓛ̶̦̬̹͐̉̐̈̇̃͆͊̎̀̕͠ⓚ̷̢̼̪̘̫̱̙̹͙̫̀̋̀̿͗͒͐̐̇̾́̒̚͝͝ⓘ̸̯̰̞̄ⓝ̶̨͔̞͔̝͙̻͍̲̃̀̋̅̃̉̆́̈̊̂͛̑̒͘ⓖ̷̮̗͈̓͊̈́́ ̴̳̹͔̙̬̞̦͉͖͔͍͊͋̃̇͒̾̕͜͝ⓣ̵̢̪̥̠͙͒̊̄ⓗ̵̧̻̫̦̪̬̖̪̝̟̯̯͑́͗͋̾̑̇̈́͋̾̾̕̚͠ⓡ̷͖̍́̔̉̒̈́̈́̄̈́̄̚̚̕ⓞ̷̙͈̍̄͜ͅⓤ̶̜͍̭͙̰̺̤̤̤͛̃̍ⓖ̴̢̡̨̩̤̖̖̯̼̙̙͓̃̉̑̄̇̊͆̔̈́̈́͝ͅⓗ̴̼̹͔͚̗̔͛̈́͒̅̊ͅ

̴̡̜̣͎͚̣͓̖̓̈́́͊̈́̑͜͠₳̶̧͎̰̩̠͈̬͔̦̳̯̂̉́̈́͛͆̏͐̈́͝₦̴̥̓̎̕Đ̸̧̮̫̹̘̼̲̞̙̂̽̄̌́̐̚̚͝ ̸̧̡̛̣̳̆̈́̽̌̅͒̒̓͌̕͝ł̷̨̧̢͖̺̲̱͕̰͔̟͇̘͈͐̎̿̾̈́͒̎̋͂₣̴͍͙̟͎̯͇͇́͂̓͋͝ ̸̡̡̛̳͙͙̫̬̰̰͚̮͊̓̆̑͌̾̍̊̀̈́̓͊͝ͅɎ̸̢̘͎̙͖̦̙͛̃̀̒̈́̋̈́͆́͗͌̚͠Ø̷̲̖̍͋̀͊̒̌̉͝͝Ʉ̶̛͉̞̫̀͛̒̐ ̷̼͍̩̹͉͍̠̻̖̓̉͌₭̴̡̩͈̱̦̑̓̌̅͆͊̉͗̅̽̆̄͊̏͠ł̸̢̨̛̛͎̰͙̼̲̮͔̪̝͍͖͎̈̒͒̀̾̎̏̃̓̈͐͗Ⱡ̴̢̱̮͎̮̠̥̅́͑̑̍̏͛̅̕̕̚͝͠Ⱡ̶̡̼͈̦̱̩̣͕͈̓ͅ ̵̛̺̥̺̩̇̑̄͒̂̌̀̋̔̏͘͜͠͠Ⱨ̷̨̨̭̲͍̠̣̗̖̩̳̩̤̪̀̔̃͐̏͐͐͊͗̊͗̚ł̶̢̼̱͕͙̯͍̩̟͈̠̗̺̠͌̉̀͊̆͘͜₥̴̺̜̀̀̊͒̓̾̒̚̕͘͝ ̵̢̩̝̪̬̰͆̅̓̎̕₣̸̡̝̞͚̟͔̻̭̪̝͍̹͋̋́̈̇̌̔̓̌̇͒̉͌ͅØ̶̧͇͎̮̝̳̺̄͗̍̐͆̇̽͂̀̀Ɽ̶̧̢̱͎̱̬͙͍̲̟̭̙̜̆̽̉̊̆̎̎̃͆͒͐͠͠ ̴̫͔̃̄͋̓̾̂́̂₥̵̧̰͓̻̯̬̝̟̏Ɇ̸̦̖̲̞̣̲̻̬͉͉͑̃̾̈̔̀̌̊ ̴͖͔̔̈̓̈́̎̓̓̀̇̇͂͐̆͘͝₩̶̧̧̛̻͓̟̲̻̝̏͒̍̂̂͋̄̚̚Ɇ̸̞̯͓͉́̽͐̔̓̈̿́̌̓̀̕͠Ⱡ̴̣̉͊̀̍̐̑̋̀͐̾̌̽Ⱡ̵̡̢̩̞̱͎̼̖̟͙̭̫̃͌̆̎͐̇̐̌͑̾̅̂͝ͅ,̵͈̙͎̖̋̀͊̕

̵̨̡̻̻̳͉̼̊́͑͌̀̍̊̄͑̿͠͠,̸̨͇͉̟͓̠̝̤̯͔͕̂̂͑̋̏̿͘̚ ̷͕͔̭̖̪͈͇͙̱͖̣̲̈̎͜͜ⓣ̶̙͇̤̺̝̾̿͜ⓗ̵̜̰̗̰̯̼͊̅̈̈́̕ͅⓔ̴̺̯͉̓̑ⓝ̴̛̫̝̦̮̈́͗ͅ ̷̥̜̫̝̻̝̒́́̈̂͆̈́̌͛̎̋Ⓘ̸̨̨̝͍͎̙͉̥̹̼̦̲̪̺͛͗̽̂̈́̍͝ͅ'̴̡̛͙̖̠̥͍̺͊̿̌̐̀̉́͊͒̂̓ⓛ̷̛͇̦͍̜̙͔̼̭͖̉͂́͆͆̒̀ͅⓛ̷̧̡͇̗̝̬̙͕̘͔̺͔̈́̐̀̄̏̀̓̌̀̕͜͝ ̷̜̆͐̿͗̀̓̃̑͌̌̚̚̕̚͝ⓚ̷̨̦͕̹̫̯̌̀͛͜͠ⓘ̷̛̲͙̪̌̂́̀͑̒͒̚ⓛ̴̢͕̻͙͕͚̱̘̈̅̄̕͝͝ⓛ̴̡̛̤͇̜͕͙̥̹̪͐͊̐̾͝ ̶̧̨͉͕̖͚̬̬̘̙͉̘̺̤̾̀̓͌͋̓̒͗̀͂͝ⓗ̶̛̯̖̤̪̮̞̥͙̝̃̏́̕͜ⓘ̷̛̥̱̩͈͓̩̝͚̩͕̦̏̀́́͗̇̉̃̎̋͒ⓜ̶̨̺̳͉̫̠̳͊͐͛ͅ ̶̢̼̳͓͈͈̲̑̄̽̌̓͑͒͝͝ⓕ̸̺͔̂̔̈́̂̈́̎̒͊͛͆̆́͆̉͘ⓞ̸̢̧̡̡̰͓̬̙͎͓̝̭͗̆͝ⓡ̸̢̯̪̜̓ ̴̥̤͔̓̌̎̈́̐̓̎́̏͆̃̚ⓨ̷̦̺͙̯̙́ͅⓞ̵̢̢͓̱̩͎̭͚͍̯̙̠͔̾̅͝ⓤ̴̛̣̒͐

̵̲̓̔

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**_W̶h̷e̵n̵ ̵P̷o̶i̵s̸o̸n̵ ̶c̶a̸m̷e̸ ̷t̸o̸o̸,̸ ̸h̴e̸ ̷d̵i̶d̵ ̴t̴o̴ ̷m̴u̴c̶h̸ ̵t̸o̸o̸ ̵s̴o̵o̷n̸ ̸f̴o̴r̵ ̶h̷i̷s̷ ̵l̴i̶k̶i̶n̶g̷.̵ ̵_ **

**_̷ ̵_ **

******t̴.̶ ̷**

**̷**

 

 

Wait didn’t I fucking do this already??? Or am I just crazy???

 

**_H̷i̷s̴ ̵t̶h̴r̴o̴a̴t̴ ̸b̸u̷r̶n̴e̴d̶ ̸a̶s̸ ̴a̸ ̵t̷h̶i̷c̷k̸ ̷w̴a̶r̷m̷ ̵l̴i̷q̶u̸i̶d̷ ̷s̶h̶o̷t̷ ̵f̶r̴o̴m̸ ̷h̸i̸s̴ ̵m̸o̶u̷t̵h̸ ̷a̸n̷d̶ ̸c̶o̶v̷e̷r̵e̶d̶ ̶t̸h̸e̵ ̴f̴l̵o̴o̷r̷ ̴b̸e̷l̴o̷w̴.̵ ̵_ **

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**_̴ ̵_ **

**_̵T̸h̷e̵ ̶s̶o̴u̷n̷d̵ ̶o̵f̸ ̷b̷o̴o̶t̴s̵ ̸c̶l̷i̷c̴k̴i̷n̵g̴ ̴a̷g̵a̴i̶n̸s̶t̶ ̸t̶h̵e̷ ̷t̸i̸l̷e̷ ̵m̷a̴d̷e̵ ̷h̷i̶s̴ ̴e̸n̸t̵i̶r̵e̷ ̴b̸o̴d̷y̶ ̴s̶p̶i̴k̷e̵ ̶w̵i̸t̶h̸ ̷p̴a̵i̸n̴.̴ ̸_ **

**_̷ ̴_ **

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**_̵ ̴_ **

**_̵C̶l̵I̸C̵k̷_ **

**_̶ ̶_ **

**_̵C̸L̴i̵c̸K̴_ **

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**_̴C̵L̸I̸c̵K̴_ **

**_̴ ̴_ **

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**_̴ ̸_ **

**_̴T̷h̷e̸ ̶s̷o̴u̸n̷d̶ ̶o̶f̷ ̴t̴h̶e̸ ̸g̴l̸a̸s̸s̷ ̸c̸e̴l̷l̶ ̸d̴o̵o̷r̶ ̷o̷p̴e̸n̵i̵n̵g̶ ̸b̴r̴a̶c̸e̷d̶ ̶P̶o̵i̵s̶o̸n̷ ̸f̶o̴r̵ ̸t̷h̸e̵ ̷e̴x̴t̷e̸r̸m̸i̶n̸a̴t̶o̴r̷s̶ ̶m̵o̸c̴k̷e̷r̷y̸.̵ ̵T̵h̶e̷ ̴p̴e̸r̴s̶o̸n̴ ̵s̶w̸e̵p̵t̷ ̸i̸n̴ ̴c̷o̷n̶f̴i̴d̵e̸n̸t̴l̵y̵,̵ ̸P̴o̸i̸s̶o̴n̶ ̴d̷a̵r̷e̷d̷ ̵a̸ ̸g̷l̴a̶n̸c̶e̶ ̵u̸p̵ ̵a̵t̸ ̶t̴h̵e̶ ̶b̸l̸a̷c̶k̸ ̶s̷o̷u̷l̵l̶e̷s̸s̶ ̸e̶y̸e̵s̵ ̶o̴f̵ ̸t̵h̴e̶ ̷e̸x̴t̴e̴r̷m̴-̸_ **

̶

 

_ His mother  _ was wearing the same thing she wore all those other days. For the first time, Poison noticed multiple holsters strapped onto her containing different kinds of weapons. She had on a portable wireless headset made of clear plastic and wires, the electricity surged through it like a threat. 

 

No, not a threat. 

 

A promise. 

 

She held a clipboard in hand and  eyed Poison up and down like a slab of meat she needed to butcher until it was ready to serve to societies elite. 

 

At the moment though, in her eyes Poison was nothing more than a cow corpse freshly skinned without any of the innards and imperfections gotten rid of. Not near the perfection she had expected, even though Poison had already been undoubtedly fucked with in the Brain and the flesh too many times. 

 

**_K̷̨̨̡̡̢̨̨̢̡̢̨̛̛̛̛̻̣͎̝̠̻̬̠̱̝̞̖̱̳̝̥̺͎̖̰̗̼͕͔̖̲͍̲͕͇̮̥̗̼͕̤̳̤̪͓̙̱̫͙̺͍͉͖̝̲̗̘̫̱͖͇̰̯̤̪̳͕͈̪̩͓͕̥̰̞̥̺͕̣̜̻̳̟̪̞̣̙͇͉̹̮͍͚̟̖͉̯̫͇̞͔̥̙͓̩̗̼̰̯͕͔̰̙͇̝̰̺͉̼̣͓̥̝͚͖̞͎̩̞͎̭͈̪̀̔̈́͂̀̑͌̀̏̋̿͐̒͗͒̇̿̓̅̈̏̎͑̃̒̀̑̌͂̎̃̀̀̃̌̿̈́͌͑̃͛̿̂̏̇̄͆͌̏́̉̅̋̐̊̉̎̾̃̏̆̎͊͌͑͗͘̕̚̕͘̕̕͘͘̕͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̢̡̡̨̡̡̨̢̨̧̧̨̧̡̢̢̹̙͇̰̠͇̫͙͈͔̩̻̥̯͍͉͚̳͕̜̲̜̥̯̬̪͎͎̣͇͎͈̘̖̻̻͍͖͚̻̠͇̲͓̥͎̥̼̗͖̤̗̦̹̝̗̬̳͔͎̹̼̤̼̣͍͙̞̥̥͓͔̥̯̻̟̻͈̫̹̥̙̗̲̤̠̫̟͇̬͖̟̲͇̼͙̼̺̻͉̳͈̰̠̹̪̖͈͙̝̠̯͍͔͈̤̥͙̤̙̳̬̳̫̖̻̰̪̻̟̲̫̲̗̲̤̯̟̥̻̼͓̘̞̳̖̰̮̰͉̥̞͈̤̩̟͕͚̩̩͖̫̱̲͖̗̥̠̲̭̘̑̀̇͋́̎̊̓̽̈̔́̍͂̀̑̀͑͊͊̈́̄̏̏͒̏̈́̂̆̀̈͋͗̂̓̒̊̌͂̐̈́̽̊̎͒̍̇͌͘̚̕̕̕͘͜͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅř̸̢̢̢̨̨̨̨̧̧̨̡̧̧̨̡̛̛̛̛̛̥̗̳̱̖̟͉̝̳̗̮͍̳̱̠͎̣̪̞͉̱̺̮̙͓̠̗͍̳̮͕̫͇̩̣̹̜̟̰̗͕̣̮̬͇̤͕̳̤̱̬̟͎̰͉̥͎̦̮̺͇̩̟̼͕̫̗̘̮̟͓̤͈̣̺͍̘̼͔̰͕̜̝̫̠͍̬̲̬͎̺̫̟̣̬̘̱͓͉̤̘͓̙̺̝̲̳̻̲̙̪̱̝̦͔̗̠̙͉̘̮̟̼̬̫͑̐́̿̍͌̂̒̈́͂̃̌̈́̆͗͗̆͑̏́͆̌̉͐͂͆͂͆̉̆͊̇̓̀̇̽͋̊͊̽̊̀̈͗̀͆̌̒̐͂̏̏͛̾͂̽̔̔̉̑̃̀̒͂̆̆̆̌̉͑͛̃̽̀̈͊̾͗̆̾̇̿̋͛̄̏̏̂͆̌͗̾̒̒̈̒͌̾̂̒͐͂̆̓͗̎̽̅͌̅̉̃̑̒̏͒̅̃͛̾̓͆̑̆̽͊̒̿͗̑̿͒͌̇͛͌̔̑̒̕̚̕̚̕͘̚͘̚̕͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅZ̶̧̨̢̨̧̢̨̫̣̪̩̯̣̬͖̩̲͍̤̜͕̟̣̦̬̝̫̬̭̳̥̟̥͕̜̟̹̫̰̖̩̙̻̖̟̗͉̫̥̞̪͙̻̥͔̭̻̟̲̥͉̙̼̟̘̗̻͎̮̺͈̬̙͍̦̺̯̠̩̳̹̲̜̙̳͙̖̗͔̞̙̻̼̝̮̺͚̯̰̦̣͚̦̜̼̭̗̺͐̾̋̃̈́̃̎͊̒̂́̄̀̍̇̇͑̀͋͒͊̏̄̄̆̂̈́͋́͌̏͊̈́̈͑̈͆̇͊̈́̿̄̎̀̉̉̏̎͋̈́́̅͂̒͆̌͐́̆̆̔̓͆̕̕͘͜͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ3̶̡̨̡̧̡̡̨̢̡̛̛̪̬̺͙̭̙̟̜̞̩͙͙͎̟̞̰̜͍̲̮͙̲̣̙̬̘̖̗͔̲̼͎̝̜̞͎̖̞̻̱̜̭̠̺̫̣̤̠̙̭̣͙͍̺̺̪̪͇̦͎̙̥̼͇̰̬̹̦̝̰̜̫̤̱̩̈̀̏͒̎̿̈́̓͒͊́̓͗̇̿̈́̀̍̋͂͗̃͋̽̈́̌̇͗̆͒̓͋͌̈̃̀̀͒̀̄̀͛̈́̒̋͌̑́̀̎́͛̐̏̓̈̾͋̎̒̄͆͌́̽͌̎̅́͑̅̌̀̅̍̃͌̌̿̔̃̾̿̒͛̆̎̍̃͘͘̕͘̚̕̕͘͘͜͜͜͠͝͝͠ͅͅ_ ** informed me that you had failed both tests one and one point five,” she  monotoned, her words were saccharine and cheery yet cunning and violent. Poisons eyes drifted down to her clip board, her hands were perfect and delicate yet still ready to snap the glass slab in half just so she had something to cut Poison’s flesh with. 

 

Poison shuddered. The name  **_K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ_ ** bounced around in his head like a tennis ball, trying to find a memory of who the name belonged to. But unlike with the name Frank Iero,  **_K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ_ ** made Poison’s stomach clench, his heart lodge in his throat, sweat to bead on his forehead, his pulse to throttle, and for another bout of b̴̧̡̛̛͖̱͍̝̙͓̟̫̠͓̾͌̑̍̓̔͑͐́̀͋̈́̓̾̏̓̀̏̉̑̆́̈́̇͒̃̍̊̐̑̄̓̆̓͑͆̋̿͆͂̔͋͆͒̍͐̇͂͊͆̐̍̐̃͋́͌̃͛̂̐̅͘̕͜͠͝͝͠͠͝͠͝L̷͚̥̞̈́̌̇͑͛̔̎̌̎͐́̇̎̊̍̍́͛̓̄͑̉̐͂̓̀̋͛̈́̄̔̈́͂͂͊͗͋͋̎̿̂͂̿́́̆͂̑̋̀͊͊̂͋̄̔͐̓̑́̌̂͘̕̚͘͝͝͠͝͠͝)̸̨̧̧̧̛̛̬̥̲̭͙̟͇̗̥̜̺͔͉̹̞͎͎̞̻͍͈͔̰̮̹̝̤̬̤̌̾͆͊͒͗̅̋̂̆̄̿̓̈́͌̍̀̒̾̓̀̃̂̋̾̔̅͂̄́̾͒̈̈́̓̀̉̉͊̀̾̎͆͐̃̑͊̅̉͑͌̿͒̍̄͋̌̕͘̕̕͠͝͠͝(̴̢̨̨̡̡̧̧̞̖̭̫̯̩̣̤̮̪͍̼̬̯̤̺̲̺̱̲̪̦̥̹̙̬̺͎̫͕̻̲̥̹̩͍̺̪̪̩̣̟̰̲͖̟͉̭̯̺̱͕̣̰̠͖͔̱͍̘̞̻̫͍̪͍̥̓̋̎̌̈́̉̈́̑͌̀̐͗̇̍̏̈̌̏̒͗͑̅̓̊̾̆̔̚̚͜͝ͅḑ̴̡̢̛͇̻̩̩͈͇͚̺͙̤̭̗̝̺͇̣̻̞̫͖̳͎̠͈̺̞̹͍̖̍̌̆͂͑̔͌̉́̄͑̍͑̈́̒͌͑̂͂̾́͆̏̽̾͘͘͜͜͝ stained bittersweet acid to snake its way up his throat. 

 

His chest heaved with quick, shallow, breaths that made his teeth cold and his mouth dry. His vision started to blur again   

 

**_K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ_ ** **_3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅH̵i̴s̶ ̴M̶o̶t̷h̷e̷r̵_ ** **_̸d̴i̷d̸n̴’̶t̸ ̵a̷c̴k̴n̷o̶w̸l̶e̴d̷g̵e̷ ̵P̵o̸i̸s̸o̷n̵ ̷h̷a̵v̷i̵n̵g̵ ̸a̶n̷ ̷a̵t̴t̸a̸c̴k̴ ̸o̷f̷ ̴s̷o̸m̸e̸ ̸s̵o̷r̶t̴ ̶a̷n̵d̵ ̸c̶o̶n̶t̶i̸n̶u̴e̸d̶ ̴o̵n̸ ̶h̴e̷r̷ ̷l̶e̸c̴t̴u̸r̸e̸ ̶o̶f̷ ̵t̵h̵e̸i̶r̷ ̷f̷a̷i̶l̶u̷r̶e̸s̸,̶ ̷“̵T̴e̵s̸t̷ ̸o̵n̶e̸ ̵p̸o̵i̸n̴t̴ ̸f̶i̴v̶e̵ ̶w̸a̸s̵ ̵e̷v̵e̴n̷ ̶d̴o̸n̸e̸ ̴o̵n̴ ̵a̷ ̵w̵h̶i̶m̶ ̶a̵n̷d̵ ̷I̵ ̴h̷a̵d̵ ̵e̶x̴p̵e̶c̴t̵e̶d̵ ̶t̵h̴a̸t̸ ̵y̴o̴u̴ ̴w̴o̷u̷l̸d̷ ̷a̷t̶ ̵l̵e̸a̷s̵t̴ ̷p̶a̸s̷s̸ ̴s̸o̶m̵e̶w̷h̸a̷t̸ ̸a̵d̷e̴q̷u̷a̶t̶e̴l̵y̵.̸ ̷M̴r̶ ̵I̴e̵r̸o̸’̶s̶ ̴p̵e̶r̶f̴o̸r̶m̴a̵n̴c̸e̸ ̷d̸u̷r̸i̷n̸g̸ ̸t̸e̸s̷t̶ ̸o̷n̶e̶ ̵p̸o̷i̵n̵t̷ ̶f̸i̶v̵e̸ ̶I̴ ̴w̶a̵s̵ ̵n̶o̶t̵ ̴s̴u̶r̶p̷r̸i̵s̷e̶d̷ ̷o̷f̴,̶ ̴a̴f̶t̶e̶r̸ ̷a̴l̶l̸ ̵h̶e̴ ̸i̷s̴ ̴n̷o̶t̴o̷r̵i̵o̵u̸s̸ ̴f̸o̴r̶ ̵b̵e̸i̷n̷g̷ ̵a̷ ̸l̸o̴o̸s̴e̷ ̶c̷a̸n̶n̵o̸n̸,̸ ̶b̷u̴t̴ ̷y̵o̴u̴ ̸G̵e̷r̶a̷r̶d̴?̷ ̷F̶i̵r̴s̸t̸ ̶i̷n̵ ̷E̸x̴t̴e̶r̶m̵i̸n̵a̵t̷o̴r̸ ̸T̸r̵a̷i̷n̸i̴n̸g̸ ̸o̷n̵l̶y̶ ̵t̴o̷ ̷h̶a̶v̸e̶ ̸t̷h̶e̵ ̵s̵e̴c̶o̷n̴d̴ ̸i̷n̷ ̶t̸h̴e̸ ̸c̵l̵a̷s̵s̷ ̵b̴e̴ ̷o̷u̴r̴ ̵v̴e̸r̴y̸ ̸o̷w̷n̴ ̸h̸e̷a̷d̸ ̷e̸x̴t̴e̶r̷m̸i̴n̷a̸t̴K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅŗ̸Z̵3̷?̵”̶ ̷_ **

**_b̴̧̡̛̛͖̱͍̝̙͓̟̫̠͓̾͌̑̍̓̔͑͐́̀͋̈́̓̾̏̓̀̏̉̑̆́̈́̇͒̃̍̊̐̑̄̓̆̓͑͆̋̿͆͂̔͋͆͒̍͐̇͂͊͆̐̍̐̃͋́͌̃͛̂̐̅͘̕͜͠͝͝͠͠͝͠͝L̷͚̥̞̈́̌̇͑͛̔̎̌̎͐́̇̎̊̍̍́͛̓̄͑̉̐͂̓̀̋͛̈́̄̔̈́͂͂͊͗͋͋̎̿̂͂̿́́̆͂̑̋̀͊͊̂͋̄̔͐̓̑́̌̂͘̕̚͘͝͝͠͝͠͝)̸̨̧̧̧̛̛̬̥̲̭͙̟͇̗̥̜̺͔͉̹̞͎͎̞̻͍͈͔̰̮̹̝̤̬̤̌̾͆͊͒͗̅̋̂̆̄̿̓̈́͌̍̀̒̾̓̀̃̂̋̾̔̅͂̄́̾͒̈̈́̓̀̉̉͊̀̾̎͆͐̃̑͊̅̉͑͌̿͒̍̄͋̌̕͘̕̕͠͝͠͝(̴̢̨̨̡̡̧̧̞̖̭̫̯̩̣̤̮̪͍̼̬̯̤̺̲̺̱̲̪̦̥̹̙̬̺͎̫͕̻̲̥̹̩͍̺̪̪̩̣̟̰̲͖̟͉̭̯̺̱͕̣̰̠͖͔̱͍̘̞̻̫͍̪͍̥̓̋̎̌̈́̉̈́̑͌̀̐͗̇̍̏̈̌̏̒͗͑̅̓̊̾̆̔̚̚͜͝ͅḑ̴̡̢̛͇̻̩̩͈͇͚̺͙̤̭̗̝̺͇̣̻̞̫͖̳͎̠͈̺̞̹͍̖̍̌̆͂͑̔͌̉́̄͑̍͑̈́̒͌͑̂͂̾́͆̏̽̾͘͘͜͜_ **

 

**_Ⓗ̶̠͎͎̊̈̈́̿͋̔̂̉͘̕͝ⓔ̵͔̥̺̟̤̣̻͕̩̟͔̓̆͛͋͜͜ͅⓨ̸̳̯̙̦͎̰̭̗̎̒̍̄̏̄̚ ̴̰̆̌͆̃͌͋̊̑̉̽́͒̑͝ⓘ̵̻̅̀̓̅̏͒̉̾͛̍͋̈͂͝ⓣ̶̨͖̪̣̝̮̖͍̃͑̐̆̓̈́͌͑͊ͅⓢ̴̨̢̻̺̞͇̯̞̙̺̭̳̆̅͜ͅ ̸̩̩̆̀́̈́̈́͌̑̀͋̾̿͊̒̚͝ⓐ̷̢̛̳̮̙̫̜̑̍̄͗͐̀͊̉̌͑̏́̆͝ⓛ̴͇͉̮̋͋̈́̿̎́̇̆͑̀̈́́͝ⓡ̷̮̱̝̘͚̩̰͛͒̍͂͋̆̽̈́̉̈́̚ⓘ̷̢̡̧̢̥̹͈̹̩̻͔͔̝̥̊͋̅͌́̐͋̀͌́̅̽͘͠͝ⓖ̵̜̣̬̹͉̣͖̈́͗̉͑͑̇͒́͆͌̐͝͝ⓗ̶̼͕̌̆̇̀̂͜͠ⓣ̵̨̩̏̍̈́̂̽̒͗͌̍̂͘̚̚ ̷̺̜̗͍̣̹̮̙̼̪̆̍̆̌͋͗͗̋͛͋̒͘͠͝ⓜ̵̧͉̩͍̲̺̒͊̎̄̿̀̏͌͌̚̚͜͜ⓨ̷̣̜̘͎̘͔̱͇͋̎̒ͅ ̸̫͇̣͚̬̼̙͚̱͎̇̒̎̽̃̽͐͒̂̊̇̈̕͜͝ⓛ̵̨̛̖̤͖̫̜͈͙͎͆́́̈́͛̈͂̾̋͆͜ⓘ̷̞͕̬̖͖̹̪̠͇̲̈́͊̌̈́̈́͂̇̾̄̇̓ⓕ̶̨̮̖̅͗̈́̉̀̿ⓔ̸̨͚̤͉̘̬̜̯̗͙̰͓̘͐͐̿̚͠ͅ ̵̙̺̤̲̘̹͎́̈́̓͑̀̉̌̓͗̈́̈́̈́́̑͜ⓗ̸͖̍̋̋̆͆͊̽̕͝ⓐ̸͔̥̜̆̈́̍͑̊͆̍͆̑̀͋ⓢ̴̛̹͓͔͎̙̥̰̹̘̤̀̈́̍̅͘͝ ̵̡̲̖͕̤̱͈͖̘̀̒̽̔̚ⓝ̶̢͚̞̝̬̠͈̼̫̲̻̮̬̲̼̒͗̍̃̎͊͗̍̍̀̽̕̚͘ⓔ̶̨̯̖͖̱̠͙̭́̏̏̈̇͆̂̓̿͐̏͆̚ⓥ̵̡̹͎̮̫̞̹̞̞̹͇̮̘̙͛́͊̌͊͑̃͆͗̿̆̀̊̒͠ⓔ̵̨̲̘̗̈̊̓̌́́̓͝͝ⓡ̶̘͍̟̈̍̒̑͋̍̓͛͌̕ ̶̞̻̮̤͑̒́͊͐̚ⓑ̸̛͓͉̻̬̣͔̯͖̾̅̒́̏̽̅͠ⓔ̶̗̈́̂̉ⓔ̴̢̞̙͈͖͛ⓝ̵̠͇̖̙͓̜̱̪͇͔͙̤̌͊̀̚ ̷̡̖͉̰̽̒́̓͛͑͌̐̉ⓐ̷̖̯͑̊̀̎̏̈͘͠ ̸̡̛̪̘̮̘̳͚̲̩̘̭͕̣͇̍̓̓͌̉̓̈́̾̿̑̿͐͘ⓑ̵͉̓̇̃̃̉̍ⓔ̶̢̧͕͍͖͚̤̦͔̰͒̏̽̆́̇̃͆̚͝ⓓ̷̛͙͔͖̆̕ ̴̮͈͑̈́̉̆͗̈́̀̆͂̕ⓞ̸̼͕̉̊͐̅̕͝͝͝ⓕ̶̨͔͇͕̺̜͚̗͚̘̠̭̻̲͑̆̾̐̄͝͝͠ͅ ̴̢̱̟̇͐̔̈̀̉͒̆̌͑̓͑̓ⓡ̴̨͓̰̼̮̼͈̗̣̦̮̐̉̏̿͒͗̔̇̇̕͝ⓞ̷̧̡̨̢̦̈͐͋̋̂̚ⓢ̸̣̦̼̿̽̆̒͊͑͋̈́̋ⓔ̸̼̹̝̐́̍͆͌́̐͋ͅⓢ̸̡̢̛̬̦̻̥̱̺̙̻̰̳́́́͋͊̏̃̅̈͆̀͝͠_ **

 

 

**_“̵_ ** **_Ⓦ̷Ⓗ̴Ⓐ̷Ⓣ̵ ̶Ⓗ̶Ⓐ̸Ⓟ̴Ⓟ̴Ⓔ̸Ⓝ̵Ⓔ̴Ⓓ̸ ̴Ⓣ̸Ⓞ̴ ̸Ⓕ̴Ⓤ̷Ⓝ̵ ̵Ⓖ̴Ⓗ̴Ⓞ̶Ⓤ̸Ⓛ̴?̴”̴ ̴Ⓟ̸ⓞ̷ⓘ̵ⓢ̷ⓞ̷ⓝ̴ ̶ⓑ̷ⓛ̶ⓤ̷ⓡ̴ⓣ̴ⓔ̸ⓓ̵ ̵ⓞ̷ⓤ̵ⓣ̸ ̷ⓞ̴ⓝ̵ ̸ⓘ̶ⓝ̵ⓢ̸ⓣ̷ⓘ̷ⓝ̷ⓒ̷ⓣ̷.̸ ̶Ⓗ̵ⓔ̴ ̷ⓓ̵ⓘ̵ⓓ̷ⓝ̴’̷ⓣ̵ ̷ⓔ̸ⓥ̴ⓔ̸ⓝ̵ ̷ⓡ̴ⓔ̷ⓜ̵ⓔ̸ⓜ̷ⓑ̸ⓔ̵ⓡ̸ ̵ⓣ̴ⓗ̴ⓔ̷ ̷ⓝ̴ⓐ̶ⓜ̷ⓔ̵.̶ ̶Ⓨ̴ⓔ̵ⓣ̷ ̶ⓣ̶ⓗ̸ⓔ̷ ̶ⓣ̸ⓤ̷ⓖ̸ ̴ⓘ̷ⓝ̶ ̶ⓗ̵ⓘ̸ⓢ̸ ̸ⓒ̴ⓗ̷ⓔ̶ⓢ̶ⓣ̶ ̸ⓣ̶ⓗ̶ⓐ̷ⓣ̸ ̷ⓛ̷ⓔ̸ⓐ̶ⓓ̶ ̴ⓗ̸ⓘ̷ⓜ̸ ̷ⓣ̶ⓞ̷ ̸ⓢ̸ⓟ̸ⓔ̵ⓐ̶ⓚ̴ ̷ⓦ̵ⓘ̶ⓣ̸ⓗ̴ⓞ̶ⓤ̷ⓣ̷ ̵ⓣ̷ⓗ̷ⓘ̵ⓝ̶ⓚ̶ⓘ̶ⓝ̴ⓖ̸ ̶ⓦ̸ⓐ̶ⓢ̷ ̷ⓛ̶ⓘ̸ⓚ̷ⓔ̵ ̴ⓢ̷ⓞ̷ⓜ̷ⓔ̶ ̶ⓢ̶ⓤ̸ⓑ̴ⓒ̸ⓞ̸ⓝ̷ⓢ̷ⓒ̷ⓘ̶ⓞ̶ⓤ̵ⓢ̴ ̸ⓓ̵ⓔ̶ⓔ̸ⓟ̵ ̸ⓡ̶ⓞ̸ⓞ̷ⓣ̷ⓔ̶ⓓ̸ ̸ⓟ̵ⓐ̷ⓢ̵ⓢ̸ⓘ̸ⓞ̸ⓝ̶ ̷ⓐ̸ⓝ̷ⓓ̷ ̸ⓨ̶ⓔ̸ⓐ̴ⓡ̴ⓝ̴ⓘ̵ⓝ̴ⓖ̸ ̵ⓣ̶ⓗ̵ⓐ̵ⓣ̵ ̶ⓝ̸ⓞ̶ ̵ⓜ̷ⓐ̴ⓣ̴ⓣ̶ⓔ̶ⓡ̸ ̸ⓗ̶ⓞ̷ⓦ̸ ̵ⓜ̸ⓐ̸ⓝ̵ⓨ̸ ̶ⓟ̸ⓡ̷ⓞ̸ⓖ̵ⓡ̴ⓐ̷ⓜ̶ⓢ̴ ̴ⓗ̵ⓔ̶ ̴ⓦ̴ⓐ̶ⓢ̶ ̷ⓢ̵ⓔ̵ⓝ̴ⓣ̶ ̶ⓣ̶ⓗ̸ⓡ̴ⓞ̸ⓤ̴ⓖ̷ⓗ̸,̸ ̵ⓗ̸ⓔ̸ ̵ⓒ̶ⓞ̷ⓤ̴ⓛ̶ⓓ̵ ̷ⓝ̵ⓔ̴ⓥ̶ⓔ̸ⓡ̵ ̴ⓕ̵ⓞ̴ⓡ̶ⓖ̸ⓔ̶ⓣ̸ ̴_ **

**_̷ ̴_ **

**_̷Ⓢ̶ⓞ̴ⓜ̴ⓔ̴ ̵ⓦ̵ⓞ̴ⓤ̶ⓛ̵evenⓓ̸ ̸ⓒ̷ⓐ̵ⓛ̷ⓛ̶ ̶ⓘ̷ⓣ̵ ̶ⓛ̶ⓞ̴ⓥ̵ⓔ̵ ̸_ **

**_̵_ **

**_H̴i̴s̵ ̷m̷o̵t̵h̸e̵r̷ ̵w̸a̵s̷ ̴n̶o̷t̷ ̸o̸n̴e̶ ̸o̶f̴ ̸t̵h̸o̶s̷e̷ ̵p̶e̸o̵p̵l̴e̴.̵ ̸_ **

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**_̵H̷e̸r̴ ̷e̶y̴e̴s̶ ̴w̸i̸d̴e̴n̵e̶d̴ ̴i̵n̴ ̵s̷h̵o̵c̵k̷ ̴a̸s̷ ̶a̴ ̵l̵o̶o̴k̴ ̴o̶f̸ ̶h̵o̴r̵r̵o̶r̸ ̸a̸n̴d̴ ̶r̵e̶v̵u̸l̶s̵i̵o̶n̴ ̸t̵w̷i̶s̵t̵e̵d̴ ̵o̶n̴t̶o̴ ̵h̵e̵r̶ ̸f̶a̶c̴e̶ ̷a̴s̷ ̴i̸f̴ ̷P̷o̵i̴s̶o̴n̶ ̵h̸a̸d̷ ̶j̸u̸s̵t̵ ̸t̵r̶a̶n̸s̵f̶o̵r̵m̶e̸d̶ ̵i̷n̸t̴o̴ ̸s̴o̸m̴e̸ ̷h̷o̸r̷r̴i̸f̶y̶i̷n̸g̶ ̵t̷h̸r̶e̶e̷ ̴h̶e̴a̵d̵e̵d̵ ̷n̶i̵n̵e̴ ̴l̴e̶g̶g̷e̷d̸ ̴b̴l̴a̵c̴k̵ ̴e̸y̵e̷d̶ ̷m̶o̶n̶s̶t̷e̶r̴.̸ ̵H̴e̷r̶ ̷t̵h̸u̷m̷b̷ ̵a̷n̶d̴ ̷i̶n̴d̶e̸x̸ ̸f̶i̴n̷g̵e̴r̴ ̸c̷l̴a̵m̶p̸e̴d̷ ̷a̶r̶o̶u̶n̷d̴ ̶P̴o̸i̷s̶o̵n̷’̸s̸ ̷w̵r̸i̷s̵t̶ ̶l̵i̵k̶e̵ ̶a̶ ̸h̴a̶n̷d̴c̵u̸f̷f̸ ̶a̸n̵d̸ ̶s̴h̷e̶ ̷d̵r̶a̴g̴g̷e̴d̶ ̸h̴i̸m̵ ̷o̵u̸t̴ ̶o̵f̵ ̶h̷i̷s̴ ̵t̵u̴b̷e̵ ̷c̴e̴l̸l̸.̵ ̶S̸h̵e̴ ̶l̷e̵a̸d̶ ̵h̵i̸m̵ ̸p̷a̵s̷t̴ ̴a̴l̶l̸ ̵t̴h̶e̴ ̴o̵t̴h̷e̸r̸ ̴t̴u̴b̵e̶s̵ ̷o̷f̸ ̸m̴i̶n̴d̴l̸e̴s̷s̸ ̷z̶o̶m̶b̵i̸e̶s̴ ̴t̵h̸a̸t̶ ̶P̶o̷i̷s̷o̸n̸ ̶s̷e̸a̶r̸c̵h̵e̵d̶ ̶f̸o̸r̷ ̴t̶h̵i̷s̴ ̵F̷r̶a̸n̸k̷ ̵I̶e̶r̶o̸ ̷h̷e̸ ̵s̶e̵e̶m̶e̶d̵ ̷t̸o̶ ̷c̶a̵r̷e̷ ̴f̶o̶r̸ ̸s̴o̷ ̶m̶u̴c̶h̸.̶ ̷B̸u̷t̷ ̸t̷h̶e̴r̷e̵ ̵w̵a̵s̴ ̶n̸o̴ ̷s̴i̴g̴n̵ ̶o̸f̵ ̵t̸h̸e̶ ̸d̶a̵r̷k̴ ̶h̷a̶i̵r̸e̷d̷ ̶m̴a̵n̸ ̶a̷n̷y̶w̶h̶e̶r̶e̵.̶ ̶_ **

**_̷_ **

**_Ⓣ̷̡̡̡̪̯̻̭͕̪̣̮͔̦͓̆͂̔͒̅̇͋̈́̃̇̈͐͂̉̋̕͘̚̕͘͝ⓗ̶̡̯̲̙͕̼̘̩̺̦̗̝͈͚͕̙̳̯̀̋͆̅͗͋̓̓͂͜ͅͅⓘ̴̪̙̥̖̺̱͖͔̮̩̬͂͂̎̐͊̇͆̈ⓢ̴̨̡̢̘̰̺̜͔̤̰͚̫͖͔͉̅͂͌̓͑̃̿̈́̇͆̈̒͒͠ͅ ̴̛̳͇̠̥̞̬̉̊̌͌̍̒̆͒̂͋͑͌́̆̆̑͛̈͐̑̕ⓦ̵̢̢̨̛̥̹͓̱̭̲̦̻͈͉͍͖͈̰̘̼͎̮̣͆̀̽̐̂̈̏̿̾̅̐̋̉̾͗͋͒̄͝͠͠͠ͅⓐ̴̛͓̰̬̱̠̳͚̖̘̺̦͕͇̣̼͍͈͎̻̗̰̾̂͑̈́̅͐̀͂̎̐̀̿̎̐̅͒̾́͘͝ⓨ̸͔̠͊̌͊̂̄̾͂̋̎̚͠͝'̸̡̡͍͔̫̲͔͇̟̱͉͚̜͖̄̀̿̔͂̄̇͂̎̾͜͝ͅⓢ̷̗̔̿̓͊ ̷̨͔̝̞̪̰̝̝̦̥͓̲̩͉̝̟̳̖̘̜̦̉̀͌̊̂̃̾͑̋͂̃̾͑̚͜͠͠ͅⓑ̸̢̢̛̗̤̙͖̙̮̹͈̭̥̺̬̗̘̜͖̯̑̀̃̋̽͛̊̽̄̂̕ͅⓔ̴̞̲̪̻͆̒͐̃͂͘ⓣ̶̨̛̭̼̜͖̟̹͔͙̥̹̂̏̇͋̈́̍̈̚͠͠͝ⓣ̵̨̧̢̩̯̗̙͖̙̼̫͎̱͔̝̦̲̙̽̐̃͊̑̏͗̓̍͑̿̐̊̆̆̄̀̚̕͘͜͝͠͝͝ⓔ̴̥̙̱͇̝͍̜̝̥̔͒̍͜͜͜͝ⓡ̸̨̛̫͚̻̞̳̘̯̯̹̫͓̣͖̱͎̣̝͎̪̋͋̑̒̎̐̈́̓͘͝ ̶̧͛̃̍̊̓̀̾͒͊̐͌͝͠ⓕ̶̢̨̡̛͎͎͓̩̞̤͎̹̤͎͔̞͙̃̊̾̈́̂͑̀̆͌̅͒̎̊̃̋̔̕̚̕ⓞ̵̢̻͓̺̻̤̻̆͆̓̄͐̋̈́̉̒̂͒͋͆̾͘ⓡ̶̨̢̛̛̻̻̱̩͚̬̺͆͒̊̃̉̐͋̐͑̏̿͗̈͆̀̐͛́͘͜͝͝ͅ ̸̛͍̣̟͈͇̞̻̞̰̟̮̖͂̀̈̾̓̓̍̅̎͐͗͛̋̓̍͌́͝ⓜ̶̡̨̛̗̖̱̱̟̫̰͈̟̼̠̙̭̬̅́̋̏͌̒̚͝ͅⓔ̶̡̧̻̺̜͎͙̗͌̂̉̈́́͂͂̆̊̏͌̀͋̔̀̚͜͠ͅ_ **

**_̷̧̤̙͖̟͓͖͍̱̮͈̪̙͇͎̭͙̣̼̻̺̖͍͍̃̇̾̃̂͌_ **

****

 

 

 

Referring to frank iero as frank iero sounds wrong. Even though I’ve never said the name i can feel it sticking to my tongue like a bitter glob of molasses I can’t stomach. I wonder why? Maybe I should start referring to him by that name I just called him. What was I-

 

_ Frank Iero is frank iero. He is a terrorist who you shouldn’t associate with. He’s killed and destroyed thousands. Frank iero is his correct name and you have and will have no relation with him whatsoever.  _

 

**_H̴i̸s̴ ̵m̸o̶t̴h̶e̸r̷_ ** **_̸d̸r̴a̷g̸g̸e̴d̵ ̵h̷i̶m̸ ̶o̴u̴t̵ ̶i̶n̴t̷o̴ ̴a̵ ̴n̷a̶r̴r̴o̵w̷ ̸h̷a̷l̷l̷w̶a̵y̸ ̵a̷n̷d̷ ̷h̴e̷ ̵q̷u̵i̷c̵k̶l̸y̸ ̴s̶t̵u̶m̵b̸l̴e̶d̵ ̶a̶f̵t̷e̴r̴ ̵h̵e̵r̶.̷ ̷S̴h̷e̴ ̷y̶a̴n̷k̴e̷d̶ ̴d̴o̸w̵n̸ ̷t̴h̶e̷ ̴m̶i̸c̵r̵o̷p̶h̸o̶n̵e̸ ̴o̴f̸ ̷h̵e̵r̸ ̴p̷o̷r̵t̷a̶b̷l̶e̷ ̸h̶e̴a̷d̶s̷e̷a̷t̶ ̶a̶n̴d̴ ̴s̴p̶o̶k̶e̸ ̸i̸n̷t̶o̸ ̶i̵t̴ ̷q̵u̷i̵c̸k̴l̷y̵,̵_ ** **_“K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ, g̵e̴t̵ ̵d̷o̷w̶n̵ ̶h̷e̷r̵e̷ ̸i̸m̴m̴e̷d̷i̵a̶t̵e̴l̶y̶.̷ ̶M̵r̸.̵ ̴W̷a̴y̵ ̶h̷a̸s̶ ̸r̵e̷v̵e̶r̷t̶e̵d̴ ̵b̶a̶c̸k̸ ̴t̵o̸ ̵p̴o̶i̴n̴t̴ ̶z̵e̷r̶o̴ ̸I̶ ̷r̶e̶p̷e̴a̸t̴ ̷M̷r̷ ̵W̵a̷y̸ ̸h̴a̸s̵ ̸r̵e̶v̸e̴r̶t̵e̶d̴ ̸b̴a̸c̴k̸ ̵t̷o̵ ̶p̴o̶i̵n̵t̵ ̷z̶e̶r̶o̷,̴”̴ ̶h̷e̶r̷ ̴b̷r̸e̸a̴t̶h̴ ̵w̴a̷s̸ ̸l̵i̷k̴e̶ ̴s̶e̴a̸r̵i̸n̵g̸ ̵h̷o̸t̵ ̴c̶o̷a̶l̴s̵ ̴b̶e̸i̶n̶g̶ ̴d̶r̶o̵p̸p̵e̵d̵ ̶o̷n̵t̷o̴ ̸P̴o̶i̷s̶o̷n̴’̴s̴ ̷e̷x̶p̴o̷s̵e̷s̷ ̵f̸l̴e̷s̴h̷,̶ ̸h̷e̷r̷ ̵a̴n̸g̵e̸r̴ ̵o̷o̸z̶e̴d̷ ̴o̵u̷t̷ ̸o̷f̸ ̸h̶e̷r̶ ̵m̷o̷n̴o̵t̷o̵n̴e̷ ̸f̷a̵c̷a̸d̷e̷ ̸l̸i̶k̵e̶ ̸s̸l̵o̵w̶ ̷m̴o̸v̷i̴n̷g̶ ̶l̶a̶v̵a̵ ̸t̴h̷a̶t̵ ̷c̴a̵u̴g̵h̷t̶ ̵a̴n̷y̴t̵h̸i̸n̸g̸ ̵i̶t̷ ̶m̸a̷d̸e̷ ̷c̸o̴n̷t̴a̶c̵t̷ ̷w̵i̸t̶h̶ ̶o̴n̸ ̴f̸i̸r̷e̸.̶ ̴_ **

**_̷_ **

**_“ⱠɆ₮ ₥Ɇ ₲Ø!” ₱Øł₴Ø₦ ₴ⱧØɄ₮ɆĐ ฿Ʉ₮_ ** **_Ⱨł₴ ₥Ø₮ⱧɆⱤ_ ** **_ĐłĐ₦’₮ ₳₵₭₦Ø₩ⱠɆĐ₲Ɇ Ⱨł₥._ **

 

**_Ⓗ̵̡̚ⓔ̵̧̛̱̫͉̬̌̔̃̂̔̓͆̌̾̐̊̏͘͠͠͠ⓨ̷̝̯͔̺̗͉͓̲̹̲̉́͆͌͌ ̷̛̗̤̣̖͚̟̝̇͒̿́̓͆̈́͑͝ⓘ̶̡͍͕̤̝͇̼̯͖̪͖͔̱͔̬͎͂̈́̃͛̾̂̄͗̈́̍̋̾̈́͌͌͠͝͝ͅͅⓣ̸̝̻̜͈̣̾͗̂̍̾̓͋͌̈́̅̈̾͛͗͒̓͐́̚͘͠ⓢ̸̨͎̙͖̝͈̭̖̅ ̴̩͉̩͎̈̐̀͑̇̏́̋͘̚͜͝ⓐ̴̧̢̨̥̞̻̹̗̹͚͔́̌̈́̑́̓ⓛ̶̡̪̼̗̗̠̫̬̫̩̭̯̲̖͑͛́̾͋̀̓̋̂̅̃̉͗͊͒͑̈́̽̈́̕͜͝ⓡ̴̢̨̧͙̹̪̮͙̭͍̹̲̩͉͕̑͊̈̊͊̈́͆̕͠͠ⓘ̴̫͙͙̫͕̪͓͌̔̔͑̃̇̈́̐̊̂͝ⓖ̶̢̛͓̫͎͓̳͓̘̱͎̆͗͠ⓗ̵̢̟̻̯͙͚̓̃̿͌́͑̐́̋̆͘̕ⓣ̵̛͇͉̫̤͙̻͇̹̭̪̦̜̹̬̯͔̻͎͙̞͌̔̉̈͋͂̓͊̈́̿͘ ̸̡̣̝̞̜̦̯͇̲̲͎̹̙̱͚̺̉͘ⓜ̴̧̛͈̯̺̥̦̜͎̤̻̈́̀̅̈̂̍̈́̿͝ͅⓨ̴̧̭̟̬̟͎̤̱̪̜̦̺͌̉̂͑͊͛̉͜ͅͅ ̷̨̡̢̬̯̞͓̞̭̳̹̟̣͚̤̟̖̠̰̈̓̒̔̎̀͝ͅⓛ̸̢̫͕̦͇̯̣̩͙̲̝͇̭̞͔̣͉́̈̓̊́̾͋̇̆̈̂̉͛͐͛̌̐͌̾͐͠ͅⓘ̸̢͔͍̘͈̺̝͚̳̟̜̳̜̭̫͕̣͈̑̿̍̿̅͐͆͊̏̚ⓕ̴̮͚̭̭̙͖̐̀͊̓̏̓̒̈͑̿̄̇́̊̐ⓔ̵̨̢̛̛͎̞̲̜̳̬͚̯̖͖̘͔͖̯̱̿̐̂̋̀̐͂̿̌̀̈́̚ ̴̨̥̲̻̜̮̥̦̱͚̥̙̘̝̲̩̼̼͔̖̌̑̋̈͊̋ⓗ̴̡̢̢̢̧̤̼̙̫̰͍͎̱͓̦̼̝̘͋̏͑̽͆̀̊͆̀̐̀̃̂͋̚͝ⓐ̷̧̛̥̥͙̟͔̞̮̰͎̝̪̘͓͈͓̋̈́͗̀̈́͊̃̎̏̃́̂͛̈̿́̆͜͜͝ͅͅͅⓢ̸̪͔̥̙̪͎̘̫̯̼̤͔̦̦̥̪͎̰͓̀͊̽̿̀̓̈́͒͂͜͝ͅ ̶̢̜̩̝̟͖̤̱͕̪͓̓̓̽͑̌̏̇͛̊́̃̚̚͠ⓝ̶̫̪̜̩͌̈̃̾̍̌̆̃̈̇̀͝͝͠ⓔ̶̨̢̠̮͎̻̥̱̳̜̥̻̻̺̣̤̆͆͐̅̆̓̇̀̑̾̋̚͠ⓥ̸̭̺̮̘͎͙̱̞̻͇͉͙̝̟̘͍̻̘̙̥̞́͋ⓔ̶̨̞̺͈͎͔̰̖͇͎͚̭̝͑̄̈́͒̈̒̈́͋͋͜ⓡ̷̢̨̡̨̢̧͇͖̻̜̟̖̦̤̗̦̙̥̘̬̓̿̊̏̔̾͛ ̸̢̛̛̛̠̮̖̜̗̫̼̳̫̈͆͒̍͛̈́͌̓̈́̋͗̌́̉̔͘͠ⓑ̷̨͇̮͔͍͙̟͒͒̈́̃̈̈̚͝ⓔ̷̡̨̱͍̼͎͇͖̭͕̗̙̞͎̞̟̞̌̍͋̄̈́̈́̏̍͜ͅͅⓔ̵̦͚̰͓̄̈́ⓝ̸̡̛̳̪͔͖͓̣̹̖̝̊̊̏͐͜ ̶̛͚̯̮̘̜̺̗̖̥̭̜͈̪͈̫͂͒̏͊͋͌̄͗͜ⓐ̴̢̛̞̘͓͕̘̲̻̰̬͓̠̤̖͕͈̞̫̏͒͋̾̃͂͋̇̒̀͑͑̑͂̎͒͊͜ ̸̛̭̥̳̦̲̖̟̗͕́̀̈́̊̈́̄͗̊́̀͋̏͘̚͠ⓑ̷̢̢̡̭̠̮̻͉̫̘͙̭̦͕͖͐̔̎̎͑͆́̃̽͋̈́̈́̐͂̚͜ⓔ̷̧̢̦͔̖̭̯̗̝̲͖̹̙̘͇͕̓̚ⓓ̴̧͕͈̙͖͍̂̌̊̈́͒̏̓̕̚ ̸̡̡͕͕̹̣̼̻͇͙̖̠͕̬̙̄͒ⓞ̴̳͎͔͓̞̯̯̟͇̩̻͇̟̀̿̀̃̓́̍͗̍̀̉͜͝ͅⓕ̴̨̭̯͇͚̱̰͇̞͍͕͔̪̜̻͇͖͐̅̌͌͐́̉̋̅͊̈͊̉̃̚̕ ̴̬̲̺͍̭͓̼̜̙̹̞͓̀̅͂́̉̈́̊̈́̕͠ⓡ̸̻̺͈̝͉̠͑̌̈́̀̈́͌̿͘ͅⓞ̷̧͈̺̻͐̿͐͒̂͗ⓢ̴͖̱̝̬͓͙̯̙͖̯́̊̇͊̂͒͂̎̚͠ⓔ̵̡̠̝͎̲͇̋̍͜ͅⓢ̷̫͙͎̹̟͙̗͈͇̲̦͚̻̹̩̲͖̹̓̇̇̾̄͑̈́̃̽̐̚_ **

**_̴̲̤̳͉̬̍̀_ **

**_̷̡̪͔̦̼̙͈͇̺̮̰̀͂̆͆̓̓̓̀͛̌̈́̈́͛̽̽́͐̕͜͠͝_ **

 

 

Who is frank iero really?

Come on colorful thoughts please come back. 

I need you to tell me this. 

Colorful thoughts where are you???

I need you!!! 

 

**_W̴h̸i̸t̶e̷ ̴d̴o̷o̴r̸s̶ ̵l̷i̶n̸e̷d̷ ̵b̴o̷t̸h̷ ̵s̷i̸d̸e̵s̷ ̸o̶f̶ ̶t̴h̷e̸ ̵h̶a̶l̸l̷.̶ ̴P̸o̷i̶s̷o̸n̶ ̷c̵o̵u̴l̵d̵ ̴s̷e̸n̴s̶e̵ ̷t̴h̴e̴r̵e̵ ̷w̷e̵r̵e̶ ̶p̴e̴o̸p̶l̵e̴ ̵i̷n̶s̵i̷d̵e̸ ̴o̴f̵ ̸a̴l̵l̸ ̶o̶f̷ ̷t̷h̸e̴m̶ ̸s̸o̷ ̷h̸e̷ ̴s̸t̴r̸a̷i̸n̸e̷d̸ ̸h̷i̸s̴ ̸e̶a̸r̵s̴ ̵t̸o̸ ̴l̷i̸s̶t̵e̷n̴ ̵i̸n̸ ̵o̶n̸ ̶t̸h̴e̵m̵.̸ ̵_ **

**_̷ ̸_ **

**_̴ ̷_ **

**_̶ <̷e̷l̷e̷c̷t̴r̵i̷c̴i̷t̴y̷>̴ ̷_ **

****

**_̴≮h̴i̵t̶t̶i̶n̵g̵ >̴_ **

**_̷ <̵b̵e̶g̴g̴i̵n̴g̸f̸o̴r̵m̷e̶r̶c̵y̷>̵_ **

**_̵ <̵w̵a̴i̷l̷s̷>̵ ̷_ **

**_̶ ̵_ **

**_̶A̶ ̷s̷h̷u̶d̸d̷e̸r̷ ̵r̶i̵p̸p̶l̴e̵d̵ ̴t̴h̷r̵o̶u̷g̶h̵ ̴a̸l̵l̴ ̴o̶f̵ ̵h̸i̷s̵ ̸b̶e̴i̵n̵g̴ ̵a̷n̵d̵ ̸h̷i̸s̸ ̷v̴i̵s̶i̴o̶n̴ ̸b̷e̴g̸a̷n̸ ̴t̴o̶ ̵d̵i̷s̸t̶o̸r̴t̴ ̵w̶i̶t̵h̸ ̴p̷a̶n̶i̷c̸.̸ ̷H̵e̴ ̴f̴e̵l̸t̸ ̵h̸i̴m̶s̷e̶l̶f̶ ̶s̷t̸u̷m̵b̴l̸e̴ ̷b̶a̵c̷k̴w̸a̸r̸d̶s̵ ̵o̵n̷l̸y̴ ̷t̶o̸ ̴b̶e̷ ̴c̴a̴u̴g̸h̸t̶ ̷b̸y̶ ̸a̶ ̶p̸a̷i̷r̷ ̵o̸f̸ ̴i̶c̴e̶ ̵c̷o̷l̶d̴ ̴a̴r̷m̸s̴ ̸t̶h̴a̷t̷ ̵h̸o̷o̵k̵e̸d̵ ̴u̶n̸d̶e̶r̴ ̸h̴i̷s̵ ̵a̷r̷m̷ ̵p̸i̶t̵s̶ ̴a̷n̸d̵ ̷c̵o̷n̴t̷i̸n̴u̵e̶d̸ ̸t̷o̴ ̴d̴r̸a̵g̵ ̴h̵i̷m̸ ̴a̴l̵o̶n̵g̵ ̶t̶h̸e̴ ̶e̵n̸d̵l̴e̴s̴s̵ ̵h̸a̶l̶l̴w̴a̷y̴ ̶o̸f̸ ̵t̶o̴r̸t̵u̸r̶e̵.̷ ̸_ **

**_̶_ **

**_̵_ **

 

**_Ⓣ̵̡̨̛̛̘̜̫͓̥͉͖͙̩̘̫͍̼̯̪̖̟͎͈̜͇̖̈͆̐͊͑͌͆̎̀̄̊̽̓̽̓͐͗͑̋̋͐̑̀̔͌̃͗̏̅͂͋̎̀̋̄̇͂̇̓̂̃̌̄̈́̏̂̈́͋̈́͗́̾͒̂̌͊́͑̕̚͜͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠ⓗ̶̛̛͎̹̻̗̮͈̯̲͎͉̬͎̩̫̝͈̹͖͍̳̰͔̼͙̱̑͆́̑̂̃̆̋̄̐̆͆͆̿̎̀̊̈́͛̄̅͌̈͂̍͒̈̓̀̌̎̂̃̉̽́͊̂̊̅̈́̊̓͌̑̇̈̃́̋̈́͆̋͂̚̚̚̕͝͠͝͝͝ⓘ̸̧̢̧̡̧̢̛̛̛͎̩͓̖͙̭̭̝̜͎̼̥̦͉̳̮͔̮̲̼̗̙̗̰͍̠͕̤͙̰͇̝̙͈̺̪̤͎̠̙͔͕̤͎̘̪̲̭̗̻͚̗͖̘̟̝̗̜͈̱͌̎́͌͆̈͆͛́̒̍͒̌́́̉́̋̂͆͂̇͆̓͊͒̾̓̈͊̏͆͌̋͆͑̅͑̒͊̓͆͑̈́̔͛̈́̂̄͑̔͒̍͋̈̐͆̏̅̿̚͘͘̚̚͘͘͜͜͜͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅⓢ̸̧̢̛̛̩̜̺̘̫̰̭̺̗̯̟̭̖͖̻̩̹̈̀͐̿͆̏́̽̀̎̅̊̈́̓̍͆̈́̽̂͆̂̉̐͑̀͒͌̿͑͒̎̐̉̽͗̍̓̐́̉̕͘̚͝ͅ ̷̨̛̛̛̛͈͙͓̰̹͇̹̙̠̤͓̺̲̪̅́̔̈̈́͋̊͋̇͑̒͐̒͆͆͑́̀̈́̀̉̈́̂̂̃́̔̀̓̔̌̅̋͊̍̎̇͊͛̑͒̀͘̚̚͝͝͠ⓦ̸̢̧̨̧̛̪̙͈͓͖̥̫͚̺͍͙̲̖͍͖̖̲͖̹͈͖͓͚̣̦̞͓̳͓̯̬͖̣͎̣̦̘͚̦̯̄͑͑̀̿͑̎͑͆͊̉̍͊̀̑̓́̂̍̇̈́̎̀͌̑͒͆̌͒͆̉̅̊̓̀͊͐͂̾̔͒̀̊̿̄̐̍͐̽̆̀̒͘͘̚͠͝͝͝ⓐ̵̨̡̡̧̨͚̻̬͍͇̝̻̺͇͉͓͚̯̰̬̞̝̹͇͓̤̟͙̻̗̳̻̘̖͓̺̙͈̫̲̤̭͖̣̳̩͈̒̊͋͒̓̐̇̆̇̈́͌͒̔̔̇̔̀͗̀̀̓̊̈̈́̿̍̍̉́̓̈́̉̃̓̈̿̒̈́͊̇̊̐͆̆̈́̕͜͜͜ͅⓨ̴̧̝̙͈̬͖̭̭̱̬̫̣̬̦̜̩̘̬̝͙̺̠̝͎̹̝̹̹̦̰̰͑̄͆̈́͌̈́̒̆͂͊̎̂̈̎͋̒́̒̽̽͂̃̀͋͛̂̅̔̀̽̕̕͘͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝ͅ'̶̢̢̨̧̨̡̧̢̨̛͖͕̮͍̟̮͇̝͉̘͍̮̻̮̤̬͔̯̭͔͙͎̪̱̲͎̣͈̖̘͇̬̜̞͚̝͖̺̥͚̠̫͔͔͎̖̮̩͇̼͚͔̮͓͙̥̻͓̟͑̎̒́̃̏̈́̍͑͗͒̈̎͂̏͊͆̂͊̋̀̓̏̽͋̅̊̔̕͜͝ͅⓢ̷̨̝̤̘͇̼̜̦̣̯̭̙̙͉̖̗͚̠͙̆̓̈́̏̊̆͒͘͜͜͠ ̴̧̧̡̨̢̰̮̩͔̗̰̲͍̥̳̖̗̣͕̺͉̖͓̳̮̹͔̗͖͙̼͎̭̘͖̮̖̩̺͙̥̣͙̞̼̳̩̤͙͊͛̓̂͒̎̏̈́̇̒͊̈́͑̏͂͊͘͘͜͝͝͝ⓑ̸̨̨̧̪͎͚̻͍͎̹̳͂̓͐̏̆̐͗̓́̽̔̈́́͐̓̀̄̒̍̍̽̊͑͑́̆̇͗̎̃͛͘͠͝͠ⓔ̷̧̨̢̧̝͍̭̼̯͇̻̩̦̩̻̬͍̬̰͕͈͍̼͓̥̪̪̯̯̳̹̜͇̜̺͚̟͎̤͓̹̃́̈́͆͊͊̈́͌̓̚͘̕̕͜͜͜ⓣ̴̨̡̢̛̹̼͓̜̤̰̮͎̟̱͙͚̭̖͈͚̟̹̩̖̝̯̜̬͔̺̯̭̰͉͖͑̓̾́̇̀̐̐̎̍̇͑̍̃̓͑̋͛̈́̈́͒͌͆̋̕͘͘͜͠͠͝͠ͅⓣ̶̢̨̛͔̗̗̭̪͔̩͔̥̘͔͖͙̘͇̤̭͎̝̮͎̥̥̲̬̮͈̘̳̻̙̻̣̂̄̐̀͛͑̇̂̎͂̄͘͘͜ͅⓔ̶̨̧̡̢͇͉͍̯̹̱̤͓̞̲̗̙̦̯͙̭̻̩͓̙̫͙̣̜̟̥͉̝̜̬͖̜͌̂̾̇̽͂̓͂̊̂́́̈́͋͋̇͗̃̌͛̀͛͊̈́̓́͌̊̂̕̚͘͜ⓡ̸̛̖͚̹͍̹͎̺̠̥̯͚̂̈́͆̐̿́͗͂̔̈̓͗͊̀̌̇̀̿́̿̌̄́̒͗̈́̄̚̕̚͝͝͝ ̵̧̧̢̨͍̞̣̮̠͖̦͇̝̭̠͎̭͕͇͈͕̬̙͚̰͕͈͉̜͔͓͎̪͖̟͍̜̯̘̘͕͙̱͕̘͚̝̫̥̆̓͌͊́̅̔̑͜͜͠ⓕ̵̢̧̢̧̛͈͚͎͕̘͎̣̖̙͈̦̩̻͖̦̘̩͐̈́̔͌̈̎̌́̏̔̉̐̃͒͆͆͗͊̊̾͋̔̈́̓͂͗̅̀̽̿͊̀̅́̀̒̿̎̀̌̀̍̀̀̿͑͐͌͐͋̒̔̋̃͋̆̉̄̚͘̕͘͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͠͝ⓞ̸̡̢̡̧̢̧̧̛̱̙̪͎̭̳͖̰̺̻̗̹̝̙̪̹͖̥̠̺͉͇̫̰͚̠͚͉͈̮̬̱̲̰͚̹̞̻̮̠̹͖̙̗̩̾́̈͂̌̔̒͒͒̍̆͊̔̐̎̃̌͗̌́̿̀͋̒̀͐͋̄͌̀̊̈̍̓̇́͋̈́̄̽̿͑͆̎̍̓̃̿̓̈́͗̈́̾͂̓̋̽͑̽́̅̄̅̅̂̚̚̚͘̕͜͠͠ͅⓡ̴̨̢̢̨̢̧̧̢̨̡̛̝̭͙̺̹͓͔͍̻̭̫̭̲̯͕̖̟͕̝̭̤̺͕̦̫͇̲̺͕̜̦̰̣̝̙̣̮͙͍͕̻̳̺̮̺̫̱͇͉͔͇͈̞̜̫̻͎̬͍̳͈̫̞̪̯̣̟̳̣̟̇͑̐̂̄̒̈̾͋̈́͗̓̈́̓͑̂̏̎̚̚̚͜͝͝͝ͅ ̵̡̡̡̛̜̪̪͓̞̬̬̣͕̦̹̙̘̪͙̙̠̫̰̥̫̯͍̮̻̖̝̫̳̝͓̭̗̝̞̮̫̤̼̎̽̈́̍̌̽̑̆̍̓̅̈́̈̓̂͗͗̈́̈́͌̉̌͂̌̓͒̽̎͋́̂͘̕͜͝͝͝͠ͅⓜ̴̧̧̨̡̡̟̫̳̮̱̮̠͓̤͖̯͍̖͖̤͕̗̦͖̗̖̤̤̥̭̰̬̯̼̹̹͓̤̠̱̹̝̞̮̝̦̱̼̫̫̺͈̳̹̜̞̩͍̲̙͖̭̬͈̞̜̼̲̱͓̓̌́̈́̊̍̐̄́̾̍͐̈̈́̀͐̈̈́̏͘͜͜͝͝ͅͅⓔ̵̩̬̬̱̰̒̂̇ ̴̡̨̛͇̘̮̞̺̰̬̥̳̟̱̘̾̐͐̈̈̈́̒́̓̅̐̔̍͒̄͊̌̌̿̄̓̊̚̕͝͝Ⓘ̷̧̢̛̛̛̫͇̠̥̘̲͔̣̭͔͓̖̥͉͈̲̤̣̺͙̯̹͔̇͆͗̈́͐̑̉̍͆͌̆̑͌͐͘̚͜͝ ̷̧̨̢̡̰̦̺̙̳̻̪̲̼͓̻̯͇͎͍̝̩̥͇̳̫̳̞̲̱̙̦̣͖͇̼̱̟͙̺̪̪̤͙͖͇͚͚̗̞̞̥̻̗̭̼̞̥͓̼̜̱̞͕͕̦̠͈́̇̽̽̀̀͐͌̄̀͊̈̊̋̈́̓̾̌͆̔̒̃̂̈́̀̊̈́̅̕͜͜͠͠͝ⓓ̵̧̧̢̧̢̻̪̫͍͈̹̜̤̟͎͕͚͎̼̳͇͕̻̦̖̳̙̠͙̻̞̗͔̝̳̦̬̖͑̉̈̀̀̓̅̃̑͋͗̃́̍̉́̚̚͠͝ͅⓞ̷̨̨̢̛̞̜̬͇͍̞̤̙̳̩̩̳̜̦̘̞͎̹̠̪̞͙͕͉̗̤̥̘͉̤̪̼̺̭͈̹̻͙͚̼͕͈̱̦̖̩͓͕͚͚̜͙̺̘̟͕͕͖͔̜͓̝̣͌̅͋͋͋͐̓̈́̆̌̆̒͗͜͜͝͝ͅͅⓝ̷̡̨̡̨̧̡̧̡̨̛̛͚̝͎̫̜̯͍͔͚̗̞̟̺͍͓̤̲̝̲̰̳͔̙̯̭̻̠̪͖͖̣̞̱̰͖̞̩͚̤͕̙̮̝̫͔͔̦̥͈̝̝̰̙͇̦̹̽͋͌̏̽̽̅͛̿͊̇̄̎͊̅̇̀͛͑́̐̈̍͆̓̉͗̀͐̎̊̽̋̆̆͂́̌̍̈̄̇͌̋͑̌̈̇̂̄͊̀̅̽͛́͑̽̿̏̄̕͘̕̚͜͜͠͠͠͝'̸̢̡̢̛̛̛̩͈̪͕̹͍̠̱̜̘͍̩̲̣͗͐͂̀̆͒͗̏̊͛̏̔̂͑̈̏̀͊͒͗͐̾͗̎̑͂̿͆͐̌͌̉̒͒͌̈́́̒̀̂̈́͌̒́̾̿̿̔͛̿̀̐̓̌̀͘̕̕̚̚̕͝͠͠͝͠ⓣ̸̧̧̧̡̛̛̬͙͕̖̞̹̜̰͓̞͉̬̙͕̥̗̦̦͖̰̟̳̬͊̍̅̊̉̿͛̀́͐̀̔̋̔̀̆̊̃̋̂̌͌̓̾̒͂͛͋̊͌̕̕̚͜͝ͅ ̸̧̢̡̡̛̛̦̠͍̮̯̼͍̰͔̺̹̻̯͇͇̗͈͔̟̝̰̏̅̓̎̒̄̏̇̌̍̐̈́́̏̆̑͒̍͋̊̓́̅̊̏̈́͛̆͗̓̚̚̕͠͝ͅⓒ̸̛̥͔͔̰̗̱̖̽̔́̉̈̔͌̽̀͒̆̾̈́͊̓͑̈́̎̂̌̿̔̓̚̚̕͝͠ⓐ̸̨̧̢̢̢̢̧̣̻̖͉͇̠͖̻͙̲̩͚̘̹̪͇̩̱͔͕͖͍͙̲͍̜̜̝͇͇̠̗̤̲̥͆͗̊̍̈́̑̉̅͆̏̑̀̑̋̄̈́͋̌͆̀͂̉̃̚̕͝͠͝͝͠͝ⓡ̷̧̨̧̛̞͓͖̤̜̹͕̲̗̜̭̼͔̻̹̳̠̝̤̥̗͔̤͓̪̹͈̺͓̱̖͖̭͎͖̳͈̼̼͚̒͌͐̓͌͆͊͊͗͛̓͂̋̇͊̒̿́̓̇̆̉̀̽̌͒̌̒͊͊̇͗̔̂̚͘̕͜͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅⓔ̷̡̨̞̟̥̮̣̮̲̻̼̖̯̗̖̞̐̌̈́̈́̓̃̾̓͑̀͊̊̈̌̀̉̎̔͗͌̽̇́͛͛̀̏̓̍̈́̏̆̔͗͊̀̓̚̕͘͝͠͝͝ ̷̢̧̧̢̡̨̧̯͓͍̜̝͇̥̻͇̖̤̠̥̣̖̪͓͙̙̟̖̮̲͈̣̻̺͉̝͔̖̦̮̙̣̫̬̰̮͇̯̟͙̲̻̳̗͍̣̙̬͔̹̲̣̦͇̪̩̼͈̜̫̟͂̀̓̽̓͐̂͐̓̄͋̐͛͗̉̇̍̔͌̇̀̊͂̀̅̉̂̑̑̾̄̐̒͌͋̐̏͆͆͋̇͛̍́̽̓͊̇͗̀̓̃̂̕̕͘̕͝͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅⓣ̸̨̧̨̨̢̢̢̛͚̲̫̝̝̪͈̲̞̖̭̝͚̘͓͔̫̞̮͈͇̥̤̭͍̺̖̙̱̗̥͕̬̘͍̝̮̱̩̳͔̦̝̱̫̮̱͔͓̰̙̼̝̹͎͎̥͙̰̩̿͂̑̐̽̏̈́̐̎̆̍̈̀̂̌̓̉̿̎̍̋̔̋̑͛̊̉̈́͛̾͌̂͒̅̓̋̔̔̇̍̆̀̊̏̈́̐̊̉̽̿̈́̂͛̏͘͘̚͜͜͝͠͝ͅⓞ̷̱̥̻͓̤̬̠͇͕̖̲̩̗͙̠̜̞̝̩̺̭̘̗̜̱̳͚͍̺͓̜̞̺͈̱̝̜̮̰̠̃̇͆̿̌̂̾̃̆̎̅́̊͑́̃̀̌̾̏̚͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅ ̸̛̛̤̹̮̉̃̏̽͒͌͐̈́͛̈́͗̕̕͜ⓛ̴̡̧̡̨̨̢̡̨̨̟͖̬̮̹̼̪̝͖̼̼͔̻̫̗͇̣̬͈͍̺̖̬̬̭͚̦͓̼͖̥̲͓̫̝̪͇̼̩̼͖̟̗̳̤͕̭̟̦͍̘̠̤̟͖̃̌̈́̋́̓̄̂̀̀͒̄͐̂̿̑̎̽̄̉̌̏͒͋̈́̀͑͛̿͒͌̾͐͆̇̌̒̿̕̕̕͜͜͜͜͠͠ͅⓘ̵̛̹̮̥̙̼̰̞̏̒̏͊̐͆͂̄̓͌̎̅̔̉̐͗̌̎́̇͌̀͂͊̉̀̕̕̕̕͠͝ⓥ̴̧̢̛͓̣̗̪̘̣̤͓͚̯̟̞̩͎͔̻͎̮̣̯̬͇̞̻͖̜͙̥̥͍͎͕̞̘̜͉̩̜̙̰͚͂̋̏̀̽̀̈́͋̆̀̎̐͋̈́̌̋̃̆̿̊̐̐͊̾̄͛̎͊̃̀͒̿̂̏̏̇͌̈́̍̑͆̀̌̔̒̈́̍͘͘̚̚͘͠͠ͅⓔ̵̧̢̢̨̨̛̛̤̘̳͇̤̫͙̭̯̝̗̟̜͓͎̺͇̣̮̱̦̖̠͕̝̟͎̬̹̩͇̻̬̥̮̥̳͙̱̱̆͌͛̍͛̒́̀́̄̂̎̾͗̋͆̀̍̓͌̒̌̋̎͑̽̀̅͛̃̋͗́̆̈́̂̎̓̇͋͆̕͘̚̚̚͘̕͘͜͜͜͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅ ̶̨̡̢̢̞̥͚̩̜̮͔̫̱̝̹̦͓̻̻̝̭̺̖̺͈̹̱̺̦̻͖̙̘̠̝͈̰̲̗̞͇͔̖̥͕̫͔̥̥͙̺̩̲͕̖̀̄̈́͑͜͜͠ͅͅⓣ̸̛̛̫̹̞͇̜̬͖̮̩̬̟͚͖̻̝̠͚̪͕̜̭͚͈͕́̏͐͛͗̌̾̇͋͊͗̌̑̉͐̆̀͛̂̔̿͆̆̾͋̍͌̀͐́̾͋̐͆̊́̎̿̈́͋͆̐̅͋͑̃̾͛̽̄̀͒̽̇͊͐̉̆̽̋̒̌͘̕̕̕͘͜͜͜͠͠͝͝͝ͅⓗ̴̨̡̛̛̛̛̣̦̜̜͍̳̬̙͉͙̖̎̓́͒̊͋́̂͑͐͗̈́̈̈̒̾̾̿̿͊̿́̑̓̋̐̓̎͑̃̏̍̀͐͑̆̂̈́̌̀͋̈́̌͌̽̈́̀́̑̾̓̚͘̕̚̚̚ⓔ̸̨̧̛̛̼̹͍̜̼̫̳̮̪͖͍̻̻̫̪͉̤̻̤̗͔̩̠͈̖͍̩͍͈̦̪̟̗̩͔̥̖̘̠̭̳̬̟̮̯͕̞͓̟̯̬͎̺̎́́̽͊̀͋͂͗͊̔̿̃̆̔̉̓̓̿̌̈́̋̀̌̓͒̾̍̆͛̉͘̕̕͜͝͠͠͠͠ͅ ̴̧̨̢̨̢̨̧̧̢̢̢̢̛̛͓̳͚̞̞̤̯͎̖̥̤̗̪͇̟̯̟͚̞͙͔̥̤͔̪͖̥̭͕̜̣͖̟̞̮͓̤͙̠͈͕͖̩͖͚̪͖͇̹̳̹͈͚̦͔̪̰̪̳̞͊̊͋̆̆͊̒̓̈́͐͋͑̅́̆͒̊̀̐̈͂͑͊͊̈͛́͌͊̀͐́͐́̾̋͊͆͋̓̈́́̏̓̋̈́͑͆͊̋̓̈́̔͐̿̈̈̃̏̒͒͒̿̍̾̓̋̾͂̅̚̚̕̚̕͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅⓛ̷̢̡̧̗̘͎̪͙̗͕̥̘͉̫̜̪͈͎̺̗͙̻͈̥͓̟̻̜͒̏͗͊̐̀̿̆̍͐̓̑̓̍̍̈́̍̓̄̑͋̊̈́̽̓͆̊͛̀̍͑̅̿̓̈̓̀͋͛̓̕̚̕͠͝ͅⓘ̶̡̢̝̲͚̝͎̬̳̭͔̺̰̙̻̮͎̜̩̝͙̫̺̣͚͎͚̥̬͚̤̳̜̤͎̗̩̥͈͂̃͌̐͂̅̓̓͛͌̑̀̂̽̄͒͗̽̌̐̎̐̽͒̆͌̓̓̈́̃̆̉͛̂̿̎͑͒̍͊̕͘̚͘͜͝͠͠͝͝ⓕ̵̨̨̛̛̛̲̗͙̗͕̪͔̱͕͚̩̪̖͈̙̞̲̗̗͎̤̣͇̅̋̄̌̿̊̿̉̈̅̾͐͊́͐̋̇͐͋̃̾̈́̐̓̇́̔̏͐̆̎͐͌͗͐̌͑͑̏̀̈́̈͛̓͑͛̍̃̀͐̐̚͘̕̕͘̕͘͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅⓔ̷̧̢̨̛̛̠̰͓̗̮̹̘̤͈͖̯͔̱̖̜̥̻̲̮̬̖̭͎́̓̄͌̋̽̌̄̌̓͒̈́̈͐͗̄̑́͗̑̈́̂͆͆̀̈̈́̄́̇̅̽͑̓͊̚͠ ̵̨̢̧̧̛̛͓͚̬͈̯̬̬̲̜̱͎̘̩͖̬̞̤͓̫͓̰̗̪̭̞̙̹̠̜͖͕̘͕̬͚̼͙̮͖̲̊̆͋̆̊̍̎͛̂̍̊̐̇̊̾̓̓͒̓̔͒̇͐͊͆̓͒̾͋̆͌̀̍͊̓͒̊͂̇̉̎̒̿̋̍̒͑̾̿̿͋̓͛̚̚̚̕͜͜͠Ⓘ̵̛̛̭̌̿̀̇̎͋́̑̐͑͑̓̆̑̿̒͊̍̆̎̈́̾͒̅͌̐̓͂͌̓̅͒̀̉̄̽̉͐̓̒͛̕̚͝͝͝͝'̸̨̛̯̠̯̜͖̹̳̯̰̳̬͓̳̗̱̠͈̠͉̝̯̱̠͑̾̄̽͊̍̑͛͋́͌̃̇̾́̅̿̆̈̿́̐́̉̏́̽̓̉̉̅̎͆̃̐̒͋̓̃͗̔̊̄̎̋̏̿̄́̅͛̈́̏́͒̾͒͆̕͘̚̚͜͝͝͠ⓥ̵̛̛̥̪̱̬͕̟͔̺͉̪̜̘̭̘̪̳̖̤̠͎̭̪̱̒͋͂̽͛͒̽̍̌̔̒̎̅̓̋̀̀͌͆̿̐̇́́́̌̊̌́̓̏̔͘̕͠͝ⓔ̵̢̨̡̛̛̦̲͕̪̤͈͕̥͓̼̮̦̝̥͎̬̣̩̜͈̮̳̟̱̪̩͓̭͔͔̺̞̞̣͇͔̥̿̈́͋͋̆̔̽̌̽̆͒̍́͒̀̇̇̑̍̒̓̏̏́͑̅̊͌̏͐̿̇̀̀́̾̾̔̈̀̈́̒̈́̅̈́̾̊̋̈́̓͗͊̑̊̊̄͛̊̋͛̔͆̎̋͌͗̔͘͘̚͘͘͘͠͝ ̶̢̨̛͚̱̰̞̫̳̠̥̬͖̲̳̳̩̮͈̻̣̯̥͓̮̜̯͉͔͍̰̒͆́̑͋̒͂̎̾̆͊͊̔́͊͌̑̀̉̋͌̅͋̍͑̐̏̈́̈̀̈́̒̽̊̀̂̅̍̆̑̏͂́̀͑̂̆̈́̍͆̐̏́́̅͒͌̓̈̅̂̕̚̕̕̚̚͝͝͠͝͠ⓒ̶̨̡̢̧̢̢̨̧̨̛̩͉̦̗̩̠̥͙̪̝͈̞͍͎͓̗̲̳̥̳͚̖̳̪̝̬̫̤̭̖̠͚̼͙̬͉̹͓̘͉̭̖͎̭̞̮͉̝̙͓̰̖̪̺̯̥̺̓̓͆̑̓̊́̑̃͊̈́̓̀̀͆̉̂̿͌̈̓̅͊̊̌̉̐͆͛̾̐̉̈́͒̈̐̽̏͒͒̃̍́̃͑̀̏͐͛̈́̋͊̀͋̊̍̽̑̅̎̊̑̒̍͛́̄͗͛̈̏̕̕͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͠ⓗ̵̨̢̯̞̣̬͎͚̜͓͚̻͓̤̘̬͚̙̻̯̪̩̦̹̞͎͚̤̟̱̳͙̜̠͔̭̈̑̈́̿͆́͑̈́͌͊̏̾̇͐̀̄̎̊̿̾̀͑̅̔̄̍̋͑̇̉̂̐̈́̆͑̆̆́͒̇̉͑̓͗̒̄͒̚͝ⓞ̸̨̛̜̥̬͎͍͇̜͍̼͔̫̣̯͓̲̟͇̳̐͋͗͛̀̿̈́̽̂̎́̂̎̑̒́́͐̾͛͑͋̏̉̾̏̓̊̋͑̂́̂̓̎̆̏̍͊̅̉̎̒̓͒̾̐̒͊̈̊̀̔̍̍̅̈͐͘͘͘̚͘̕͠͝͝͝ͅⓢ̶̨̢̢̧̧̲͈̭͓̲̱͓̝̤͔̘͉̠̖̺̯͎̱͈͔̼̯̞̺̼̼̳͉̪̻͉̖̩̙̬̺͉̍͒͌̂̆̉͜͜ⓔ̴̧̡̢̡̧̛͇̪̦̲̙̥͖͙̗̙̮̺̹̯̹̥̰̲̞͍͖̫͎̹̝̹̪̟͉̻̫͙͎̞̠̙͎̜̲̳̲̙̟̬̤̹̱̝̠͖̦̜̖̣̰̮̭͉̣̌̾͂͆̀͐̍͐̈́̿̌̓̿̋͛̋̇̓̈́͗͊̔͒̂̂́̃̏̂̑̈̾͆̈́̐́͊̚͘̚͜͝͠͝ⓝ̶̡̡̧̡̫͕̘̘͉̭̤̻͇̮̙͔̗͉̗͉̱̤̟̥̺̻̗̩͖̜̻̞̹͇̟̪̫͔̯̦͎͔̻͍͓̣̤̞͕͉̻͋̋͗͛̐͋̍̆̀̍̓̇̓̽̅͘̕̕͜͝ͅͅ_ **

****

**_̶̡̨̢̢̛̛͖̰̖̩̝̲̫̰͕͖̠̣͇͎̤̘͚̩̗̼̫̗̠͖͈̞͎̦̭̦͇̘͙̣̟̗̖͉̠̺̳̋̋͊͐̌͂̊͂̋̓͋̃̉̋̏̍̂͗̈́̋̽̽̀͊̎͆̃͐̔̈́̇̆̇̀͆̀̌͐͂̂̌̑̊͗̇͋̆͗͑̐̅͂͆͊̔̇̋̆̈͘͘͘͘͘͜͜͝͠͠ͅͅ_ **

 

 

**_P̷o̸i̸s̸o̸n̴ ̷l̵o̷o̵k̵e̷d̸ ̸u̸p̸ ̵t̸o̴ ̷s̷e̷e̷ ̵a̶ ̸b̶e̵a̸m̶i̵n̷g̴ K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ ̴a̸n̶d̸ ̶h̵e̵ ̶g̶a̷v̶e̶ ̵u̶p̴,̸ ̴s̷l̷u̵m̶p̷i̸n̵g̶ ̵i̸n̶ ̷t̵h̶e̶ ̶e̸x̶t̵e̴r̷m̸i̸n̵a̵t̷o̸r̷s̷ ̴a̷r̷m̵.̴ ̴I̷t̴ ̵w̷a̵s̶ ̷n̵o̸ ̸u̵s̴e̶,̷ ̴  ̶̷̸w̵̵̷a̴̴̵y̶̴̶3̷̶̶̵̷̷̷̷̷̸̷̴̸̵̶̶̸̴̷̵̶̵̴̴̵̴̷̶̷̶̷̴̴̵̷̸̸̶̵̷̶̶̵̵̶̷̸̷̸̷̸̶̴̶̵̷̵̶̴̶̷̶̵̴̸̷̴̶̸̴̵̶̷̷̷̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ ̵h̶e̵ ̸w̶o̴u̶l̴d̷ ̶e̵n̷d̷ ̴u̸p̴ ̶i̸n̷ ̴p̸a̸i̶n̷.̴ ̸A̸n̴d̶ ̶c̶o̴m̷p̴l̴i̵a̵n̵c̵e̷ ̵o̷n̶l̸y̵ ̵m̸e̴a̴n̶s̷ ̷l̸e̴s̸s̴ ̵p̷a̴i̸n̷ ̷t̵o̵ ̷d̴e̸a̸l̸ ̸w̷i̸t̷h̵. K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ c̷o̵n̸t̷i̵n̶u̵e̴d̶ ̷t̴o̷ ̸d̸r̶a̸g̶ ̵P̶o̴i̵s̵o̴n̵ ̷a̸l̷o̸n̶g̸ ̵u̸n̵t̵i̶l̸ ̷t̸h̷e̶y̷ ̷r̶e̷a̷c̶h̴e̶d̸ ̵t̶h̷e̷ ̷e̶n̸d̴ ̷o̵f̸ ̶t̴h̸e̵ ̶h̷a̷l̴l̵.̵ ̶T̷h̸e̷r̶e̵ ̸s̶a̶t̴ ̵a̶ ̶l̴a̸r̸g̶e̶ ̷d̷o̸o̵r̶ ̴m̶a̶d̷e̵ ̴o̶f̷ ̶f̸r̵o̷s̵t̴e̴d̸ ̷g̶l̵a̴s̵s̷.̸ ̵T̵h̸e̵ ̶g̴l̷a̵s̸s̶ ̶r̴a̶d̶i̷a̴t̷e̸d̶ ̶i̷c̷e̵ ̶a̴n̶d̵ ̴w̴h̷a̷t̶ ̸l̴i̸t̸t̸l̸e̶ ̷P̵o̵i̸s̸o̷n̵ ̷c̸o̴u̶l̷d̴ ̷s̴e̶e̴ ̵t̷h̷r̷o̵u̸g̷h̴ ̷i̵t̷ ̵w̵a̷s̶ ̸p̴u̶r̵e̴ ̶w̶h̸i̶t̴e̷.̶ ̷_ **

**_̴_ **

 

**_His Mother_ ** **_d̶r̴e̶w̷ ̸o̸u̶t̷ ̵a̶ ̷r̸i̶n̴g̵ ̸o̵f̵ ̵t̶w̸o̴ ̴k̴e̵y̸ ̴c̷a̴r̸d̴s̵.̶ ̶O̷n̶e̶ ̶w̴h̴i̸t̵e̶ ̶a̵n̷d̵ ̵o̸n̶e̶ ̷b̵l̸a̶c̶k̸.̵ ̶B̸o̵t̴h̶ ̶w̸i̴t̵h̸ ̶t̶h̵e̸ ̴s̷a̷m̵e̸ ̴o̷m̶i̵n̴o̵u̶s̷ ̸s̶m̵i̶l̴e̶y̶ ̷f̴a̵c̸e̴ ̴p̶r̴i̶n̶t̵e̷d̸ ̵o̶n̸ ̵i̵n̵ ̶t̷h̵e̸ ̷o̴p̵p̵o̷s̵i̸t̷e̶ ̵c̴o̴l̷o̵r̸.̸ ̶S̸h̶e̶ ̸g̷r̸a̴b̶b̴e̸d̶ ̴t̷h̵e̵ ̵b̷l̸a̴c̶k̷ ̶o̸n̵e̴ ̵t̷h̵a̴t̶ ̶s̶a̷i̷d̷ ̵a̸t̴ ̵t̴h̶e̵ ̸b̵o̵t̵t̶o̷m̴ ̷i̴n̸ ̴t̸h̶i̶c̷k̶ ̷w̵h̷i̶t̷e̵ ̶l̵e̶t̸t̸e̷r̷s̸ ̶E̵x̶p̷e̴r̷i̷m̵e̶n̶t̵a̶l̷ ̷R̴e̶h̸a̷b̵i̴l̷i̶t̵a̵t̵i̷o̴n̶ ̵M̷e̶t̶h̷o̵d̴ ̸R̸o̶o̷m̶s̴.̶ ̷S̵h̸e̷ ̴w̶a̶v̵e̷d̸ ̵t̴h̷e̸ ̸c̶a̷r̷d̸ ̸i̴n̸ ̷f̸r̵o̵n̶t̴ ̴o̸f̴ ̴t̵h̶e̴ ̶l̸a̴r̸g̷e̴ ̵g̷l̷a̴s̸s̴ ̴d̸o̸o̸r̵ ̴a̴n̸d̷ ̵a̵ ̸w̷h̷i̶t̸e̴ ̴l̷i̷g̴h̴t̶ ̶f̴l̴a̴s̶h̷e̷d̵ ̵a̶c̵c̶o̷m̷p̴a̵n̵i̴e̵d̴ ̵b̷y̷ ̸a̵n̵ ̴i̷r̷o̵n̸i̶c̴a̵l̷l̶y̸ ̸p̸e̵r̶k̸y̷ ̴c̴h̴i̷m̶e̶.̸ ̴_ **

**_̴_ **

 

**_Ⓐ̸̟̫͌̀̎̉̊̍̓͐͛̿̓̇̐́ⓝ̶̨̢̛̼͙̹̖̣̰̤͈̥̂̉̆͗̀̊̇̐́͐̐̂͝ⓨ̵̡̨̥͈̯̼͕̭͇̔̍̐͜͠ⓦ̶̢͚͍͋̑́͗̑̏̋̈́ⓐ̸̱̻̀̏̏̓̏̋̿́̾͒̆́̒̏͝ⓨ̴̧̟͙̣̲̟̖̮̦̉̓́͊̀̂̍̀͑̂͘_ **

**_̵̹̜͙̝̳̥̣̯͙̯̙̜̆̏͑́̇̈́̀́̊͂̓͝͝Ⓐ̶̢̡̩̠̮͔̬̹̠̼̱̠̱͎̙͖̋̎͆̄̈̂́͂͒̾́́̂́̕͠ⓝ̶̛̖̺͓͈̹̭͋̽̏͗̒̔̓͆̕͝͠ͅⓨ̶̛̹̤͓͂͐̆̓͑̉͋͘͝͝ⓦ̸̢̼̟͈͓͉̞̳̘̯͆̿͜͝͝ⓐ̶̦̦̱̖̐͂̂̆̆͠ⓨ̸̺̤̭͉̱͍̪̭̿͌͒͂̈́͑̐͒̆͊̔_ **

**_̷̭͈͕̪̞̞̫̄̈͒̓̿̎_ **

 

 

**_S̵h̷e̵ ̴r̷e̶s̵t̷e̸d̷ ̶h̶e̵r̶ ̴h̸a̸n̵d̶ ̴o̵n̷ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̷f̶r̸o̷s̶t̵e̴d̶ ̶g̴l̵a̴s̸s̷ ̸a̶n̴d̸ ̵l̶o̸o̷k̵e̷d̴ ̴b̴a̵c̸k̵ ̴a̷t̵K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ a̶n̷d̴ ̵P̵o̴i̶s̴o̶n̴,̶ ̵“̵I̴t̵ ̷s̶e̵e̴m̶s̵ ̵y̸o̸u̸r̵ ̴e̶a̴r̴l̶i̵e̴r̵ ̷o̸b̸s̸e̸r̵v̶a̶t̸i̵o̵n̶s̵ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̸b̸e̷e̵n̶ ̵c̴o̷r̴r̶e̵c̸t̵,̴ ̸w̴i̸t̶h̵ ̵a̸ ̷r̵a̵t̶ ̵w̶i̷t̷h̷ ̷s̶u̷c̵h̶ ̷a̴ ̴s̷t̴u̷b̵b̵o̶r̷n̸ ̴a̷d̸d̸i̴t̵u̴d̶e̸ ̸w̸e̵’̸r̷e̵ ̶g̴o̷i̷n̷g̸ ̵t̴o̶ ̷h̷a̵v̷e̵ ̷t̷o̵ ̸g̵o̴ ̴e̵x̶p̵e̶r̶i̵m̵e̴n̶t̵a̴l̴.̴”̷ ̵S̸h̵e̸ ̵s̶i̴g̷h̴e̷d̵.̵ ̵H̷i̷s̵ ̸M̶o̵t̵h̸e̷r̶ ̵p̶u̸s̸h̴e̶d̵ ̶t̵h̵e̴ ̴d̵o̸o̶r̵ ̸o̴p̵e̵n̸ ̷r̵e̷v̵e̴a̵l̴i̷n̴g̶ ̶t̵h̵a̵t̵ ̴t̵h̵e̷ ̵g̷l̶a̷s̶s̸ ̸d̸o̷o̵r̸ ̸w̶a̶s̵ ̸i̷n̶ ̴f̷a̷c̷t̵ ̵o̵n̷e̸ ̵f̵o̷o̷t̸ ̶t̴h̸i̵c̵k̷.̵ ̶_ **

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**_K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ y̵a̶n̵k̸e̵d̸ ̷P̸o̵i̵s̴o̵n̵ ̴u̴p̶ ̶o̵n̷ ̷h̴i̶s̴ ̵f̶e̵e̷t̷ ̸a̵n̸d̵ ̴s̶h̷o̶v̶e̴d̴ ̶P̷o̴i̴s̴o̷n̸ ̴i̸n̶t̵o̵ ̶t̸h̷e̴ ̶r̵o̴o̵m̸.̴ ̵A̵s̶ ̸P̴o̶i̶s̶o̴n̵ ̸p̵a̴s̸s̵e̶d̶ ̸H̵i̴s̴ ̷M̸o̸t̷h̴e̷r̷ ̶h̶e̶ ̸h̵e̷a̶r̶d̷ ̶h̴e̷r̶ ̶s̵m̷i̶r̴k̸ ̸i̸n̴ ̴h̵i̷s̷ ̴e̶a̸r̶,̷ ̸“̵W̷e̴l̷l̸ ̴p̵r̶o̴b̶a̴b̷l̵y̵ ̶h̷a̵v̴e̴ ̶t̴o̸ ̸g̷o̶ ̵e̷x̴p̷e̵r̴i̷m̵e̶n̵t̴a̵l̶ ̴o̴n̵ ̷M̶r̵.̴ ̵I̸e̴r̸o̸ ̸t̶o̴o̷.̵ ̷A̶f̶t̸e̴r̸ ̷a̵l̷l̵,̶ ̶h̵e̷’̵s̸ ̸d̴o̴n̶e̵ ̷w̶o̴r̵s̷t̴ ̵t̶h̴a̸n̷ ̵e̸v̶e̶n̸ ̸y̶o̷u̶,̸”̴.̷ ̴P̸o̴i̸s̵o̸n̴ ̵t̷e̷n̶s̵e̴d̷ ̵i̵n̴ ̴p̷l̸a̵c̵e̸,̴ ̶c̷e̸m̸e̷n̵t̴e̷d̴ ̸t̷o̶ ̷t̵h̵e̵ ̷g̸r̷o̷u̶n̶d̸ ̵h̶e̴ ̷s̷t̶o̶o̷d̵ ̷o̸n̵.̴ ̶H̵e̸ ̸w̸a̶n̷t̶e̷d̸ ̴s̶o̷ ̴b̸a̸d̶l̷y̴ ̴t̸o̷ ̶c̵l̴a̵w̸ ̴h̷e̸r̵ ̵f̸u̸c̸k̸i̷n̶g̷ ̴e̵y̸e̷s̵ ̵o̴u̸t̴ ̶a̴n̷d̵ ̷t̷e̷l̵l̷ ̶h̴e̷r̵ ̵r̷i̴g̷h̷t̶ ̴w̵h̴e̸r̶e̴ ̴s̶h̴e̶ ̸c̸a̶n̴ ̶p̶u̵t̷ ̷h̵e̵r̵ ̸s̷o̴ ̴c̵a̵l̸l̵e̶d̶ ̷“̵e̸x̵p̷e̴r̵i̶m̷e̶n̵t̵a̸l̸ ̴m̸e̸t̴h̶o̵d̷s̶”̴ ̶a̶l̸o̴n̸g̵ ̸w̷i̴t̸h̶ ̶h̵e̴r̵ ̷p̸i̶l̶l̷s̸,̴ ̴h̷e̵r̴ ̷d̶r̷u̶g̶s̶,̶ ̴h̸e̴r̶ ̸n̴e̷e̷d̷l̴e̸s̷,̵ ̷a̶l̵l̷ ̸o̸f̴ ̵t̵h̶a̵t̸ ̷s̵h̸i̶t̸.̴ ̶_ **

****

**_̸̠͉͋_ **

**_̶̨̡͈͙̗̙͎̦̘͈̭͕̞͇̯̍̈́̒̃͐̈́̂̆͑̃͊̂̔̒Ⓗ̴̺͈̦̭͈̬̫̗̮͇̯̒͂͆̿̍̑͝ⓔ̶̧̤͔͚̇̓̎̂͗ⓨ̷̛̛͙̭͍̙̫̮̔̌̑͋͂̌͠ ̷̢̛̺̰̝͔̤͒ⓘ̸̢̛͇̗̩̫͍̘̘͂̑͋̐̏̾̀͋̔̉͛͘͠ⓣ̴̧̩̮͚̥̲̮̻͔̓̀̑͌̓͋̐͛͑̅͠͝ⓢ̵̛͖͙̹̞̠͉̹̤̺̣̠̀͊́̔̔̀̈́͗͛̅͌̀ͅͅ ̵̨̧͓̹͍̄̍͊͋͛͊͌̓̉̀͆́́̏ⓐ̷̡̡̹̮̞̣̹̹̾́͠ⓛ̷̡̛̮̭͕̖̤͖̝̥̞͚̟͈̔̃̈́̔̌̆̑͜ͅⓡ̵̧̢͇̞̠̬͚͔̦̪̮͛͗̈́͊͛̇͌̚ⓘ̶͕̦̃̐̽͗̏̇́͌͂ͅⓖ̴̨͌͑̊͒͑̀̉͐̄͌͒̽̊͘ⓗ̵̧̨̖͔͕͕̭̪̱̝̘͛̏̀͊͂͜ⓣ̴̢̢͖̘̬̖̆͛ ̸̡̢̲̈́̌͋̋̽̕ⓜ̵̬̈́̑̆̋͆͐̉̉̐̃͒̆̈̕͝ⓨ̴̡̡̛̺̜͓̝̜̳͍̖̜͍̱̳̜͂͛̌͗̋̒̿̊͛̓̇̚͘͠ ̶͚͕̾ⓛ̸̡̛͈̦̪͚͇͔̮̫̽͋̋̽͋͜ⓘ̵̢̡̙̰̹̖͖̠̲̤̪͉̯̑ⓕ̸̢̨̗͈̄͝ͅⓔ̶̛͕̤̬̮͓̪̘͓̣̭̆̇̈͋̃̓̑́́̈́̓̚ ̵̺̗̥̔͑̍̽͒̎͝͝ⓗ̷̛̖͇̝̜̩̘͍̘̪̯̱͇͋̔̈́̉̿̕̚ⓐ̶̼̰̀̀̈͗́͊̌ⓢ̵̞̟̬̦͎͖̻͇̈̈́̈͊̋͒͊͗̑̐͌͋̑̌͠ ̷̧̧̛̲̻͙͓̖̙̣͍̭͕̣̐̀͊͜ⓐ̶̱̱̬̜̟̩̥̔̈́́̆̉̽ⓛ̴̛̛̖̰̦͚̦͈̼̖̜̼͕̿̆̊̊͛̿̇̎̆͜͝͠ⓦ̶̨̨͓̜̝̥̲̲͔̱͆͒̂̾́̂͌̏́̉̍͜͜͝͝ⓐ̷̨̧͉̝̯̝͖̘̯̯͙̗̰̱͗̂͊̍̑͜ⓨ̴̧̖̤̦͇̼͚̈́͌̃ⓢ̷̖̳͈̬̝̳̺͉́̎̐̑̄͒̌̾͑̔̀̕͠ ̸̭͖̭̬̘̣̪͔̑̐̋ⓑ̷̢̟̺̩̠̲͌̊̃̏̔̈́ⓔ̸̧̮̖͖̭̭̱̯̮̜̼̙̖̂̌̄ͅⓔ̴̢̖͓̞͔͂̓̓̎̄̄͘͝ⓝ̶̠̬͖̙̫̣͔͍̞̟͌̇̀̏͋͐̈́̈̕ ̸̭̰̓ⓐ̶̺͈̬̮͙̺͍͉͈̠̩̜̗̔̊̀̈́̑̀́͊͜ ̵̨̨͍̻̫̪̣̪̯̞̭͔͎̬̈́͌̍̓͒̈̀̄̆͋̍̉͗͘ⓢ̵̨̡̪͍̑̂ⓐ̴̘̻̠̗̩̗̤̦̾̍̂̈̆̇̎͂̓̎ⓓ̴̺̣̼̯̟́̿̎ ̵̛͈͖͈̣̦̤͙̺̘͈̎͐̓́̈́́̂̀͐̓͜͜͜ⓔ̶͔̭̘̯̮̯̹̇ⓜ̶̢̹̪͉͖̘͉͍̠̯̜͔̖͂́̌̈́̈́͜͜ⓞ̵̛̭̬̣͕̥̱̼̗̽̇̈́̑̆̚ⓣ̸̢̻̰̲͔̫̻̙͛̊̋̒͑͠ⓘ̶̡̢͓͇͉͖̦̳̘̮̩͇̾́͋̈́ⓞ̸̡̛̛͈̮͔̲͇̭̪̤̳̱̀̃̑̊̈̇̒̈́͆͆̽̋͝ⓝ̵̣̙̞̭̜̜̜̝̘̘͔͛̉_ **

**_̵̭̲̘̝̪̑͂_ **

 

 

**_“̵M̷o̸v̷e̵ ̸i̶t̴,̵ ̷R̸a̷t̸!̵”̵ K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜3̸̶̸̸̴̵̵̸̸̵̸̶̴̷̴̶̴̶̴̷̴̸̴̸̸̸̷̴̴̴̶̸̵̵̷̵̵̵̸̴̵̵̶̴̷̷̴̴̴̸̸̸̷̸̶̷̵̸̵̴̷̸̸̷̵̴̶̷̵̴̷̸̵̸̷̸̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ ̸s̵p̷a̵t̸ ̶i̷n̶ ̶P̶o̶i̴s̵o̵n̸’̵s̶ ̵e̶a̴r̵ ̶a̴n̶d̶ ̵s̶h̵o̸v̷e̶d̷ ̵h̷i̴m̷ ̴f̸o̷r̷w̴a̷r̸d̸s̵.̵ ̷P̶o̷i̶s̷o̴n̴ ̸o̸n̶l̸y̵ ̶m̷a̴n̵a̵g̵e̴d̵ ̷t̶o̴ ̵s̶n̷a̷r̷l̴ ̴i̴n̸ ̴r̵e̴t̸u̵r̴n̷,̵ ̴h̸i̸s̷ ̷e̸a̴r̴ ̷w̴e̷t̸ ̸f̵r̴o̷m̶ ̵h̶a̵v̵i̴n̵g̶ ̵t̴h̸e̵ ̷e̶x̸t̵e̷r̴m̶i̶n̴a̵t̶o̵r̸ ̶f̵u̸c̴k̵i̴n̶g̸ ̷S̶P̵I̸T̴ ̷I̷N̵ ̵H̸I̶S̸ ̴E̵A̸R̷ ̵O̸F̸ ̸A̵L̴L̶ ̷T̸H̷I̶N̶G̵S̸.̸ ̶_ **

 

**_T̸h̸e̵ ̶m̴o̷m̸e̸n̶t̵ ̷P̸o̷i̴s̴o̵n̷ ̷e̴n̷t̵e̴r̵e̷d̴ ̴c̷h̷i̸l̷l̴s̸ ̵r̵a̶n̶ ̶t̷h̷r̶o̴u̶g̵h̸o̴u̶t̶ ̷h̶i̶s̴ ̸b̶o̷d̷y̶,̸ ̴t̸h̷e̴ ̸e̷x̴p̶e̷r̴i̴m̶e̶n̸t̸a̶l̷ ̷r̷o̸o̶m̵ ̷w̷a̴s̶ ̴n̶o̶ ̴d̷o̴u̶b̵t̴ ̶t̷e̴n̷ ̴t̴i̵m̴e̴s̶ ̶c̸o̴l̵d̶e̸r̷ ̸t̷h̴a̷n̶ ̴t̸h̴e̷ ̶d̴e̸s̴e̵r̷t̴ ̶a̵t̶ ̵n̵i̴g̶h̷t̷ ̴i̶n̵ ̶t̷h̶e̴ ̴w̶i̴n̷t̸e̷r̸.̵ ̵A̴l̵l̸ ̸h̷e̴ ̸c̸o̸u̶l̴d̵ ̴s̶e̶e̵ ̴i̵n̴ ̴t̸h̶e̸ ̶r̷o̴o̵m̸ ̵w̵a̷s̸ ̴p̴u̴r̶e̷ ̴b̸r̸i̷g̵h̴t̷ ̵w̶h̷i̴t̶e̵.̷ ̵A̵ ̴w̸h̵i̷t̴e̷ ̴s̶o̵ ̶b̷r̶i̴g̷h̴t̵ ̴a̵n̷d̵ ̵p̴a̸i̷n̸f̴u̶l̴ ̸t̵h̶a̸t̴ ̵i̴t̵ ̶b̷u̷r̸n̶e̷d̵ ̸i̸n̷t̷o̸ ̵P̶o̵i̶s̵o̵n̵’̶s̵ ̶s̵k̸u̸l̷l̷ ̴a̴n̸d̸ ̷m̴a̵d̷e̴ ̴h̴i̵m̶ ̴h̸u̸r̸t̸ ̴f̸r̴o̷m̴ ̴t̸h̷e̸ ̶n̶e̴c̷k̷ ̷u̷p̵.̷ ̸H̵e̵ ̶t̵r̷i̵e̴d̷ ̶t̷o̴ ̴c̵l̸o̶s̸e̸ ̴h̴i̴s̵ ̷e̸y̷e̶s̷ ̷b̸u̷t̴ ̵i̶t̶ ̵o̶n̷l̸y̴ ̵m̶a̵d̸e̸ ̴t̵h̴e̸ ̶l̶i̴g̵h̶t̶ ̶h̴u̷r̴t̶ ̶w̴o̵r̴s̵t̶.̸ ̸_ **

****

**_̷_ **

 

**_Ⓓ̶̢̛͎̑ⓞ̶͇̃̍̾͑̓̔́͌̄̄̓̈̕͝ⓝ̷̢̧̜̟͖͉̱̭̰͖͕̗̬̏̏̀̅̊̐̐͂̉̎͌̕͜͠͝'̵̠̬͚̳̯͉̱̈́̽͌̔̏̊͊̏̐ͅⓣ̷̢̦̗̙̟̗̰͒̃́̍̈̿͌͋ ̴̧̨͔̱͖̠̣͚̬͇̲͖̺̤͛͑͆͒̓̊̊͌͑̀̓̆̌̚ⓕ̵̧̢̳͇̪͈͔̯̗͓͕͉̠̞͗͗͗̑̂̇͝ⓔ̶͈̣̳̟̟̘̻̺̀̐̌͐̑̐͆̈̈́̔͛͝ⓔ̸̨̨̱̟̗̰͛̚ⓛ̵̺͓̩̞͚̘͈̽͆̎̎̋́̀̿͗̌͜͝ ̶͎̗̗̋́͊͒̓̈́̄̃̀́̕͝͝ⓢ̸̛̼̄̈́͌̾̃̔̆̓̈́͗̊ⓞ̴̛͔̝̟̞̠͎̱̜̥̽̔͑̈́̓̓̓̿ⓡ̴̪̠͚̪̟̳̓̽͒̽͒̈́̆̀̈́̾͒̏̈́ⓡ̵̨̛̛͍̙̘̰̤̌̀́́ⓨ̸̞͇̖̯͔̰̝̆̋̈́͆́̈́͒̚̚ ̴̢̜̤̻̯̭̣̈̔͋͛̍͛̀̄̆̃͠ⓕ̶̰̦͇̪̹͔͔͎̠̠̪͐̅̎͒̈́͌͒̾̅̕̕͜͝͠ⓞ̴̩͉͉͑̂́͂́̊̆̚ⓡ̸̛̰͉͙̫̓̇̔̍̊̆̽̎̿̕ ̶͈͎̤͎̤̯͑̃ⓜ̸̛̛̻̝̋̀̏̓̆̌̏̇͌̈͘͝ͅⓔ̸̢̻͔͕̪̼̜̬̞̤͋́̀̾̓̌́̑̂͆̂͋͠.̵̢͕̪̺͇̬̊_ **

 

How do I know what desert nights are like?

Colorful thought??

Plead just tell me this one thing!

Did I  _ live  _ in the desert?

Tell me!

Come back

Please

I won’t be able to make it without yo!

̴

̶

 

**_\Ⓗ̶̨̭̯̤̦̺͍͕̺͊̈́̌̾ⓔ̶̜̯͇̣̱̰͈̿͑̽̕͠ⓨ̷̮̎ ̵̖͈̒̀́̌́͂̒͌̚ⓘ̴̡̞̾̌̉̓̀͂͂͘͝ⓣ̴̣̬̈̓͂̄̋̉̀͂̊ͅⓢ̷̢̡̣̙̲͈̫͗̀́̈͐ ̶̛͍͔̹͓̿́̄̃̀̌͗ⓐ̵̧̥̟̺̭͉̥̲̼̜̈̊̅͐͛͝ⓛ̸͕̞͖͇͕̯͇͇͆̆̈̿̇̀̓̈́͋͜͠͠ⓡ̵̧̛̻̙͎̰͙̜̟̤̜́̈́̒̽̓͑͜͠ⓘ̵̛̩͔̓͐̓̑̆ⓖ̵̧̮̓̿̉̎̆̌̍̏̽̚͝ⓗ̴̼͕̪͑̈́̾̍͒̂͑̀͐̽ⓣ̴̼̰̻̩̹͈̲̥̰͊̄͆́̊̓̋͑̕̕͝ ̴̜̤͍̩̒̈́ͅⓜ̴̢̞͈͓̏̈́̌̍̽ͅⓨ̵̨̂̽̏͌ ̶̤̭̂ⓛ̵̡̧̧͕͇̖̱̟̙͝ⓘ̵̡̥̗͎͍͖̯͍͈͉͐̚ⓕ̶̡̧̹̳͙̥̟̇͒̌̆̐̾̈́͘͝͝ⓔ̶̘̰͆ ̵̢̖͈̥̞͖̲͓̦̠͒̈̓̓̌̀̄͘͜͠ⓗ̶̡̘͎̫̣̺̩͖̟̽̔̀̅͂͐̉̑̕ⓐ̵̰̮̲̠̦̭͔̌̈́̔̑͘ⓢ̷̢̡̣̪̭̩̳̳͔̮̫̓̌̔͂̄͒̔͝ ̴̹̲̣̗͆̾͊͌ⓐ̵̨͇̥͎͙͕̗͍͎̬͙̒͋ⓛ̵̛̫̳͍͎́̓̓̀́͗̽̄̚ⓦ̵̟̫͙̯͍͍̦̾̆͒͗̕͘ⓐ̵̛̞͚͈̐̈́͑̈́̈́͛̓͘͝ⓨ̵̢̛͛̀́̐̋̈́̎ⓢ̴͕̈̋́͌͌̎̍̋̄̊͗ ̷̙̟̥̹͍͔̗̠̯̉̊̐̇͘ͅⓑ̶̞̦͕̼̪̦̥͍̘͓͇͒̌̄̀̅̑̕ⓔ̴̨̧̭͂̐̑̿̑̎̽̓ⓔ̸͖̰̖̫̬̱̊̿͋͗̈̈̚͝͠͠ⓝ̴͉̯̘̙̹͍̑̄̇ ̷̨̧̖͉̞̟̺͉̰̝̙̀͊͊̃͐̐̓͌̇̚͘ⓐ̴̡̢̛̭̹͕̩̅̐̋̈́̈̈́̉͑͝ ̴͓͇̟͕̎̂̈̒̍̅͗̄́͠͝ⓢ̷̮̗͓̘͍̯͛́̽̐́̒̓́̾͘͝ⓐ̵̡̫͉͖̬̱̰̫̎̌͊̊͊̈͋̿̉͜͜ⓓ̵̢̤̥̳̠͙̼͕̰̌̀̆̈̎̐̾́̃͘͜ ̷̘͈̈͗͊̀͛͋͂̔̀̕͘ⓔ̷̨̰̥̟͗͌͒ⓜ̵͍͙̲̇͠͝͠ⓞ̷̭̮͍̱̤̳͍̝̒̅̈́͌̒͒̊̽̉͘̕ⓣ̵͍́̃̌̉̆̃͆͗̾͛̎ⓘ̸̛̰̬͊͒̓̄̾́̂͑͠͝ⓞ̸̡̧͓̖̟͈̪̫͇̭̠́͝ⓝ̵̨̡̺̬̤͖̤͑̆̓͆̌̏̀͝_ **

**_̵̢͉͚̯̫̇͑̅͂̆͒̽͒͝_ **

****

 

 

**_B̵r̴i̵g̴h̸t̸ ̶r̶e̸d̴ ̵c̷r̷i̸m̷s̷o̵n̴ ̶s̵p̴i̶l̷l̷e̷d̴ ̵f̵r̷o̸m̵ ̸h̵i̵s̸ ̷w̷r̴i̵s̶t̶s̸,̵ ̵a̵n̷d̸ ̴t̸h̵o̶u̶g̵h̵ ̴i̷t̸ ̷b̸u̸r̵n̶e̸d̶ ̷a̸n̷d̸ ̵a̷c̴h̵e̶d̶,̸ ̵i̸t̶ ̴a̴l̵m̸o̶s̸t̴ ̴m̴a̸d̸e̸ ̴P̵o̴i̸s̵o̶n̵ ̵h̵i̸g̵h̶.̷ ̶B̴u̷t̸ ̴w̴h̶a̶t̵ ̵s̷o̴m̶e̷ ̷w̵o̷u̴l̷d̴ ̷c̶a̸l̷l̷ ̴“̵t̷h̷e̵ ̴g̸o̷o̷d̸ ̸h̵i̸g̵h̴”̵ ̶_ **

**_̷ ̵_ **

**_̶R̸e̶d̷_ **

**_̴_ **

**_̴_ **

**_̵_ **

 

Just like my  _ real  _ hair 

 

**_A̸l̵l̵ ̷t̷h̸a̴t̸ ̶h̶o̶p̴e̸ ̸i̴s̶ ̷d̵e̸s̴t̴r̵o̵y̸e̷d̵ ̸w̸h̸e̷n̸ ̴m̸e̴t̴a̴l̵ ̷c̶u̸f̴f̶s̴ ̵r̴o̸l̴l̴e̸d̵ ̸o̸u̸t̴ ̷o̵f̷ ̶t̵h̵e̸ ̸a̷r̷m̷s̸ ̵a̵n̴d̵ ̷l̴e̵g̶s̶ ̶o̵f̶ ̶t̶h̷e̵ ̵c̸h̸a̴i̷r̸,̵ ̷f̴a̵s̵t̷e̵n̵i̴n̷g̶ ̶P̷o̴i̸s̶o̴n̸ ̸i̵n̴ ̸p̵l̴a̸c̵e̴.̶ ̸P̶o̴i̶s̵o̴n̷ ̶s̴t̶r̴u̴g̷g̶l̶e̶d̸ ̶a̶g̴a̶i̴n̵s̴t̷ ̷t̴h̷e̶ ̴b̴i̷n̶d̷s̷,̶ ̵“̷L̶e̵t̶ ̵m̸e̴ ̷g̸o̴!̷”̴ ̸H̵e̵ ̷r̷e̵p̸e̵a̶t̵e̴d̴ ̷i̴n̷ ̴a̷ ̴h̸i̷g̸h̴ ̷s̷h̶r̸i̶l̶l̶.̷ ̶L̴i̸k̴e̷ ̷t̴h̷a̶t̵ ̵w̴o̷u̸l̶d̸ ̸d̷o̴ ̴a̶n̶y̵t̴h̵i̴n̴g̶ ̶t̷o̷ ̶s̵t̷o̶p̷ ̶H̷i̷s̵ ̵M̶o̶t̶h̴e̴r̸ ̷a̷n̵d̸ ̶K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̷̴̵̶̸̶̶̸̵̸̸̸̸̶̴̷̷̸̵̴̴̶̶̶̵̷̸̶̸̵̵̶̵̷̸̸̵̸̷̴̷̶̴̴̸̷̴̵̴̶̵̶̴̶̵̴̸̶̷̵̶̸̴̶̷̶̶̶̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̸̶̸̸̸̴̵̶̸̷̴̵̴̵̶̵̶̵̶̶̶̷̸̵̸̴̴̶̵̴̸̶̴̵̴̷̶̷̵̵̸̸̵̸̷̸̶̵̷̸̶̷̴̷̴̴̸̴̷̸̶̸̶̴̶̸̶̸̷̴̴̴̶̶̶̸̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ ̷f̵r̶o̴m̷ ̴d̸o̵i̸n̵g̸ ̸t̸o̸ ̸h̸i̷m̵ ̸w̷h̶a̴t̶e̵v̸e̴r̴ ̵t̴h̴e̴y̵ ̵w̸e̸r̵e̵ ̵a̴b̸o̶u̷t̷ ̷t̸o̷ ̵d̸o̶ ̸t̸o̵ ̶h̷i̶m̴.̶ ̶_ **

**_̴_ **

 

**_Ⓓ̴̥̩̣̱͚͙͛ⓞ̷̙̈́̂̈́̍̈́̎ⓝ̵̲͆͒͐̾͑͐́͘'̶̡̻̃̈́͛̽̚͠ⓣ̴̢͈͛̾̓͠ ̷̛͚̬̫̞̆̔̈́̀ⓕ̸͖̠̈́̃͌ⓔ̷̢̭̂͝ⓔ̶̧̧̡̯̘̝̫̉̚ⓛ̴̨̥͚͇̠̖̐̃͒͝ ̸̤̋̇̎͝ⓢ̴̧̯͛̂ⓞ̴͔͈̼̻̊̏̽̓͘ⓡ̴̨̺͍̾̊͑̀͋͋̾͘ⓡ̴͖̰͍͓̜͖̀͂̓̎̃̍ⓨ̴͉̙̯̼̥͛̌́̅ ̵͈͕͍͋͐̌̓̈́͘ⓕ̴̻͍͖̺͉̣͎̪́́̍̏̇̚͠͠ⓞ̷̛̝̙͙͖͓̊͂̏ⓡ̶̙̩̥͕͓̲͈͕̔͌ ̷̧̘̻͚̠̹̔̄ͅⓜ̵̳͉͈͙̪̱͂̍͘͝ⓔ̷̢͖͓͈̗̅̑͜͝ ̶̧͍́̈́ⓕ̷͙̏̅ⓔ̷̼̙̝͙̞̺̂̒ⓔ̵̨̘̘̻̦̂̔̿̋͝ⓛ̴̡̛̜͎̫͗̈̕ⓘ̴̗͕͆̃́̒͆͋̚ⓝ̵̛̙͇̪̤͒̂̀͂̌͋͠ⓖ̸̯̇̀́̄̈́̕̕ ̸̞̼̩̣͂̏̀̎ⓢ̸̡͉̣̻̹̰̈́̈́̓̓͒͋̾͝ⓞ̷̪͚̰̿̎̎ⓡ̷̹̘̳̩̯̑̀̒̂ⓡ̵̰͑̐͗̓̊̃̿ⓨ̶̺̘̞̞͛'̴̞̮̗̪̠͒̉̑̚ⓢ̷̫̮͎̹̒̒̿̈́͝ ̵͖̎̈́̾͛́ⓑ̸̳̜̮̊̇̋̽͛̏̕͘ⓔ̷̡̰̫̣͎̂̇́̕͠ⓔ̵͖͍̝͎̙̫͌ⓝ̸̻̦̘̦̘͈̞̌ ̸̧͓͖͇́̾̽̅̽̚͜͝ⓜ̶̨̞̤̣̱͓͕͛̓̃̓̂͜ⓨ̵̰̩̈́̈̈͌͊̀͘͝ ̴͍̞̽̽͛ⓛ̴̧͕̻͚̝̹̀̉̑͑̏ⓘ̶̩̼͓̗̻̦͉̃͌̓̆͠͝ͅⓕ̷̡͉̮̩̍̿̅̊́̄͜͝ⓔ̸̟̹̻̳̹̐̅̈́͗̒̇͘'̶̛̰̻͈̇́̆͝ⓢ̵̢̟̫̒̑ ̵͉̖̦̞̦̿̓̏̋̍́̍ⓓ̴̠̺͙̳͎̙̣̐̎̆ⓔ̶͉͙́̎̀͌̇͆̏̍ⓥ̶̮̹̯̈́͑̄̊͠ⓞ̵̨̢̤͔͕̦̩͂̿̍͂̐͛̚ⓣ̴̬͚̣̌͋̀͑̌̇͝͠ⓘ̷̱̠̗̫̺͐̽̾̉̈́̃͜ͅⓞ̴̣̖̰̭̪͙͎͌͐̀͝ͅⓝ̶̦̺͖͇̜͕̿̋͋͊̕͠_ **

**_̷̛͉̭̤̮͚̃̆̔̀͜_ **

**_̶̞͇͍͈͔͍̜̤̆̌͑̂̋_ **

 

 

**_H̸e̵ ̶s̵a̶w̷ ̷a̸ ̷d̷r̴a̸c̷ ̴r̶o̷l̶l̶ ̵u̸p̷ ̸a̸ ̸l̵o̸n̴g̶ ̶l̶i̶n̶e̶ ̵o̴f̶ ̸m̷e̵t̴a̷l̴ ̸t̶r̸a̶y̵ ̸t̵a̶b̴l̸e̵s̵ ̷ ̶w̷i̴t̸h̶ ̴a̷l̴l̸ ̷s̵o̷r̷t̸s̶ ̴o̷f̶ ̶e̵q̸u̶i̸p̶m̷e̴n̴t̵ ̵o̷n̴ ̴i̷t̵,̸ ̸e̶a̷c̶h̷ ̶c̵a̶r̶t̵ ̶c̴o̸n̶n̸e̸c̶t̶e̸d̷ ̴b̵y̵ ̶a̴ ̶m̴a̶g̴n̵e̸t̴i̵c̷ ̵s̷t̵r̸i̴p̵ ̴o̴n̴ ̶t̴h̷e̷ ̶e̵n̵d̶ ̵o̶f̵ ̸e̵a̸c̵h̶ ̷t̵r̷a̵y̴.̸ ̸_ **

**_̵_ **

 

 

**_B̵e̷f̴o̸r̴e̵ ̷P̴o̶i̶s̸o̸n̴ ̷c̵o̸u̶l̴d̸ ̴i̵d̴e̴n̶t̸i̴f̷y̵ ̵w̵h̶a̴t̸ ̴s̵o̵r̶t̴ ̶o̷f̷ ̸i̸n̵s̴t̷r̷u̴m̷e̶n̵t̶s̷ ̶w̴e̵r̷e̴ ̵o̸n̴ ̵t̶h̴e̷ ̶t̴r̴a̸y̴s̶,̴ ̶a̸ ̵t̷h̷i̷c̴k̸ ̸h̴e̶l̵m̶e̷t̴ ̴w̴a̴s̶ ̴s̷h̵o̴v̴e̶d̷ ̴o̴n̷t̸o̴ ̸h̴i̴s̴ ̶h̵e̶a̸d̵.̷ ̵I̶t̴ ̷f̵e̸l̷t̷ ̷h̷e̷a̵v̸y̶ ̵a̵n̵d̴ ̵m̴a̵d̴e̴ ̵P̷o̴i̴s̷o̴n̵s̸ ̵h̸e̶a̸d̸ ̸d̷i̴p̸.̸ ̷S̶o̶ ̶H̵i̷s̷ ̷M̸o̸t̷h̵e̴r̵ ̵o̷r̴d̴e̸r̶e̷d̶ ̷K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ ̵t̶o̷ ̶g̸e̶t̸ ̵o̶u̶t̵ ̸t̵h̶e̵ ̵n̴e̴c̵k̶ ̷c̴u̸f̴f̵ ̷a̶n̴d̸ ̵c̷h̸a̸i̶n̷ ̷P̷o̸i̷s̸o̸n̶’̵s̵ ̶n̶e̴c̴k̷ ̶t̷o̷ ̶t̶h̷e̴ ̴b̷a̸c̸k̷ ̶o̵f̶ ̷t̶h̵e̷ ̷c̴h̵a̴i̴r̵ ̴s̶o̴ ̶h̷e̵ ̷w̷a̵s̷ ̶f̵o̵r̵c̴e̶d̶ ̴t̴o̸ ̵s̴i̷t̸ ̸u̵p̶ ̶s̶t̶r̶a̴i̶g̸h̶t̶.̶ ̴_ **

**_̷_ **

 

**_̵̣̮̻̂͒́͒_ **

**_̶͔͙͐̑Ⓐ̴̣̆̉̃͒͘̕̚͝ⓝ̴̧̫̜̪̃́̓͘͜ⓨ̷̧̥̯̒̓ⓦ̶̼̬̐͒͘ⓐ̸̼̑̌̈̈́͛̈̋̒̈́̈́͠ⓨ̶̧̢̣͈̻̥̹̙̱̲̎͑̎̔̂̋̎̎̊͋̕ͅ_ **

****

 

 

**_I̵n̸s̷i̷d̷e̸ ̷t̶h̸e̵ ̴h̶e̴l̴m̸e̵t̸ ̷P̷o̵i̶s̸o̴n̷ ̷w̷a̶s̷ ̸s̷u̸r̴r̶o̷u̷n̵d̷e̸d̵ ̴b̴y̶ ̶s̴c̴r̷e̴e̸n̸s̵.̸ ̸A̴l̴l̴ ̵o̸f̷ ̷t̴h̵e̶m̵ ̷p̸l̸a̶y̵e̵d̷ ̴o̵n̵e̸ ̶g̶i̷a̴n̸t̵ ̴v̴e̴r̴s̶i̴o̸n̴ ̶o̴f̷ ̸t̶h̴e̸ ̷o̶l̶d̵ ̴b̵l̷a̸c̶k̴ ̴a̷n̴d̵ ̵w̵h̸i̴t̴e̵ ̸t̶h̸r̷e̵e̶ ̵t̸w̵o̷ ̶o̶n̵e̵ ̶c̶o̴u̷n̶t̶d̷o̴w̵n̴ ̸y̸o̸u̴’̴d̴ ̴s̶e̷e̵ ̷i̶n̷ ̶a̸n̴ ̸o̴l̷d̵ ̵m̶o̶v̶i̵e̴.̸ ̶T̴h̵e̸ ̵b̸e̴s̵t̴ ̵w̸a̶y̸ ̷t̵o̸ ̷d̵e̵s̶c̸r̴i̴b̶e̸ ̶t̴h̸e̷ ̷e̶x̶p̷e̵r̸i̷e̶n̸c̸e̸ ̸w̵a̷s̸ ̷t̶h̴a̸t̶ ̷t̷h̸e̸ ̷h̴e̶l̸m̴e̵t̸ ̸h̷e̴ ̴h̴a̵d̸ ̵o̵n̵ ̴w̸a̷s̴ ̸t̶h̶e̷ ̴p̴r̴o̵d̴u̴c̶t̷ ̵o̴f̴ ̴a̵n̷ ̸I̸M̴A̶X̸ ̵t̴h̵e̶a̴t̴e̶r̷ ̸h̵a̴v̶i̸n̴g̸ ̵a̴ ̶o̸n̷e̴ ̵n̸i̴g̶h̶t̴ ̴s̷t̸a̴n̸ ̴w̵i̷t̴h̵ ̷a̴ ̴V̷R̶ ̴h̵e̴a̷d̸s̶e̵t̸.̵ ̷_ **

**_̴ ̷_ **

**_̶T̴h̷e̵ ̷c̶o̶u̴n̶t̵d̵o̵w̸n̸ ̴e̸n̴d̴e̴d̴ ̴a̵n̴d̴ ̷t̴h̸e̶ ̶i̵m̵a̴g̴e̴ ̵o̴f̵ ̶a̸ ̵f̸a̶m̶i̷l̸i̶a̴r̵ ̷‘̵j̸o̴y̷ ̵f̵l̶a̶s̸h̸e̴d̴ ̵o̵n̶t̷o̶ ̸t̸h̴e̷ ̷s̵c̶r̵e̶e̶n̷.̵ ̵P̵o̴i̴s̴o̷n̷ ̷j̸u̷m̶p̷e̴d̵ ̶i̴n̸ ̸h̴i̷s̵ ̶s̸e̸a̸t̴ ̷a̶n̷d̸ ̵l̷e̸t̶ ̷o̵u̸t̴ ̵a̵ ̸g̵a̵s̸p̸ ̵a̴t̶ ̸h̶o̷w̷ ̶s̶u̶d̴d̸e̸n̵ ̷t̴h̵e̸ ̴i̶m̴a̶g̶e̷ ̴a̸p̸p̵e̷a̶r̶e̸d̵.̴ ̸T̴h̴e̶ ̴p̷i̴c̵t̴u̵r̵e̶ ̶w̶a̶s̷ ̶s̶o̶ ̶h̸i̶g̴h̸ ̴d̶e̶f̷i̷n̶i̵t̵i̶o̶n̷ ̸i̴t̶ ̵a̵l̴m̸o̸s̸t̷ ̸l̷o̸o̸k̶e̴d̸ ̴r̷e̴a̸l̴.̸ ̸P̴o̵i̴s̶o̵n̵’̵s̸ ̸e̷y̴e̷s̸ ̴s̸w̶e̶p̷t̵ ̵u̷p̸ ̴a̸n̶d̵ ̷d̷o̶w̵n̶ ̶t̷h̶e̶ ̶s̴c̴r̴e̷e̷n̸ ̸a̶n̸d̷ ̶n̷o̴t̴i̴c̵e̸d̵ ̵t̷h̷a̷t̸ ̴t̸h̴e̶ ̵s̵c̷r̶e̸e̷n̴ ̸s̴h̷i̴m̴m̸e̸r̶e̸d̵,̷ ̴a̶s̴ ̷i̴f̶ ̵i̶t̷ ̴w̴e̴r̷e̴ ̴a̸ ̷h̸o̸l̸o̷g̴r̶a̶p̸h̷ ̵o̴r̸ ̶t̴h̵r̸e̶e̵ ̸d̵i̵m̸e̵n̸s̸i̸o̴n̶a̷l̸.̸ ̵_ **

**_̶_ **

**_̴̨̢͎̺̗͓̤̟͙͇̰̻̲̯̥̲̦̱̑́̉̐̽́̑͑̂̅͑̅̔͆͊͌̈̍̅̈́̎̉̈́͊̃̋͗̚̕̕̕͝͝͠ͅ_ **

**_̶̨̠̤̖̃̌̊̓̐͗̄̎̔͊̍͑̅̿͐͗͋͒̏̕͜͝ ̷͎̭̄͌͐͂̿͊̊̔̈́̂_ **

**_̶̛̯͙̪̠̀̎́̄̎̆͗̀͌̓̍̇̄̌͆̀́̀̈̄̃̚͜͝Ⓗ̸̢̘̪̰̭͈̗̙̮̤̹̦̙̳̰͈̯̭̱͙̒̿̏̿͑̅́̂́̀̄̈́̀͛̽͐̀̀̃́̔̀́̿͒͆̃̔́̋̅͘͘͠ͅͅⓔ̷̡̨̰̣̖͍̫͍̙̪̝͎͇͓͙̦͚͚̟̻͍͕͙̝̺̜̺͔͚̞͙̈́͑̀̿͌́̒̀̿̉͛̋̏͗̀̔̔̐͜͝͠͝ⓨ̴̧̟̼̖̜̟̘͎̣̗̹̳͍̰͙̥͔̺̮̳̏ ̷̢̦͕̱̺̯͙̮̬̬͇̲͍͍̤̜̙̦̞̖̯̥̭̼͍͎͍͊̍̐͆́̈́́̂̈̎̈́̅̎͒̈́̈́͗̓̽́̕̚͜͠ⓘ̵̡̜̫̪̗̯̠̱̟͍̅̈̉̒͒͆̾́͆̓͂͑̌̅̆̅̓͒̎̋͝͠ⓣ̴̧̛̛͙͙͔̹̞̪̺̜̪͚͎̥͕̍͂̿̔̐́͑̈̉̐̔͐̔́̓̊͝ⓢ̵̧̡̡̧̜̮͈̹̟̪̻̝̠̤̪̳͈̜̼̲̬͈͖̩̊̉̑̑̑͑͒͐̂́̓́̈̽̆͐́̔̔͐̆̋̀̏̏̾ͅ ̶̡̢̘̻̠͕̈́́̄ⓐ̷̧̡̧͓̮̺̜̲͓̜̩̰͉̻̙̿̏̈́̔̒̌̈͝ⓛ̶̧̖͙͍̱̦͇̣̼͚͍̦̩̼̞̘̟̠͗͗̓̿̆̀̒́̇̿̂͆̏͑̌͌́̂͘̚̚͝ⓡ̵͚̦͙̼̞̝̀̽̔̐̐̀̈̀͜͠ⓘ̵̻͇̦̦͐̐̀̍̄͐̽̔̅̉̅̎̀͐͋͑̚ⓖ̵̢̛̰͙̰͕̠̬̮̟̦̮͉̲̟̝̹͖̬̬͔͔͑̽͗̆̆̌͌̈́̊̎͛͌͊͋̈̈́̈́̾̈́͒͂̔͛̏̕ⓗ̴̭͕̺͕͉̫̩̻͒̔́͑͂͆͆̄͒́̀͌̿̆͒̋͐̔͐͗͛͆̓̕͘̚̕͠͠͠ⓣ̴̻̯͍̖̻͈̠͖͉̻̪͉̻̪̲̖̝̙̪̄͛̆͋͆̏̾̉̎͗͛̑̅͐̕͠ͅͅ ̵̧̢̢̧͎̠̣̙̹̻̯͔̲̺̣͔̯͓̝̜͈̺͓̤͙͊͑̍͌̋̆͑͆̑̑̓́͑͐̈́̽͂͑̈́͒̔́̒̕͘͜͜͜͝͝ⓜ̴̥͖̫̮̰͎͙̱̳̗͕̞̀͋̍̑͗͑̿̀̋̽̂̒̋̎̋̏̊͌̏ⓨ̵̧̯̤̜̤̣̠͔͙̙̥̦̟̖̩̼̥͈̤̤̰̬̞̘̥̱͍̫̲̉̆̃̐͌̏̋̄̐̆̓̀̋̈͋̀̽̐̍̋̐̃̃͒̑̀̑͌̕͘̕̕̚͜͝͝ͅ ̵̨̣̼̤̲͈̫̈́̿́̀͛̓͌̃̓̕͜͝ⓛ̵̧̢̛̦͙̯̬̳̊̒̉̌͒̆̈́̆̒̊̕͘ⓘ̸̣͓͇̮͎̞͔͕͚̫̙̖͕̎̄̑͛̕͘ⓕ̶̨̢̧̛̛͖̺̠̥̦̥̯̫̆̀̍̀͒̾͂̾̐̽͐̅͊̐̏̓̇͂̕ⓔ̶̱̝̗̙̋͛̽͂̊͊̈́͋͌̿͊̍̽̐̀͑̓̽̏̌̏̇̉̑̔̇̀̀̓͘͝ ̴̧̛͕͓͔̯̘̺͔̺̜̻͉͙͖̙̘̱͈͓͓̘̩̮̹̙̰̲̻͑̿̌͋̆̄̒́̃̑̇̆͘ͅⓗ̷̧̤̠̬͈̫̖̣̘̥̞͍̞̗̼͍̀͂̀̿̐̏̅͂̄̚͘͝ͅⓐ̴̰̮̞͎̟͕͇̈́̆͛̉̎̓͂̿͆̌̄͂̔̑̒͌̀̔͂͋̈́̑̐̓̓́͆̿̕̕͝͝͝͝ⓢ̶̧̧̨̡̨̢̛̜͉̜̹͚͎͇̱̩̞̫̞͕͔͍͍̘͖̻̼͈̲̪̭̞̖̠́̍͌͊̿̋̋̈́̔̀̀̽̒̆̓͂̿͌̚͘͝ͅ ̴̢͈̹̦̭̲̣̘̩̙̘̗͇͖̩͖̥͇̼̳͇̗̟̳͈͔̌̎̀̑̑͐́̑͐̎̇́̈́̚̕͝ͅⓝ̸̨̡̡̡̛̘̦̹̻̠̳̼̰̪͚̩͙͓͎̭̬̻̗̟̙̞̺̬̳̩̳́̎̋͒̿̎͂̋͂̿̾̃̈͌̾̽́̓̐̾̋́̚͘ⓔ̸̨̧̦̩̠̼͙̩͇͔̫̻͖̟̻̞̱̹̘̦̰͎͖͂͛́̎̽̆͑͋̑̔͜͠ⓥ̴͕̤̹̩̹͓̀̅͜ⓔ̷̡̛̫̱̺̼͎̩͖̺͍͗̆͆̀͐̓̚̚ⓡ̶̧̢̢̻̲̩̙͚̗̖͔̫͖̬͓̫͉̗͎̗͕̖͎͖̥̪͎̖̼͕̜̈́̂̐̐̔̊̍̌̔̃̿̇͑͛̔͆̂̆̌̔̿̕̕̕͘͜͝ͅͅͅ ̵̡̧̦͖͚͈̘͚̺̈͜ⓑ̷̨̡̠̤̺̯̤̫͙̙̲̤̙͍̤̠̘̙̲̝͕͚̬̫̰͇̦͓͉͖͍̿̓͒̿̄̔̽͛̄́̒̑̈́̋̊̅͊̎̏̑̓̊̚͘͘͜͝͝͝ⓔ̴̢̱̥̜̩̟̙̻̼̠̩̙͓̪̪̻̭̱͖̼̙̫̠͔͖̣̣̟̭̙̃̒̆̓̓̓̂̚͠ͅⓔ̴͚̘͍͈̤̪̍̃̐̽̽̈́͌͑̓̐͌̐̎̈́̓͂͂͘̚̕̕͝ⓝ̴̨͇̖̠͔͈̺̭̜͖͌ ̸̧̢̛͔͈̞̬̬͚͕͇̱̠̗̝͇̳̼̬̈͐͐͐̄͛̍̏͐̈́̎̈̑̄̍̾͂̊̓͑̽̋̊̓͑̚͠͝ͅͅⓐ̷̺͈̮̭̰̖̘̦̼̲͉͑́̎̀ ̶̢̻̜͖̻͍͖̦̺̯̱̗̦̯̙̥̝̙̙̹̪̣͚͈̠̘͖͕͖̫̘̟̟̫̱͋́͋̌̅̀̓̔͐̀̀̔̾̃̀͑́͂̓̽̈̈͂̏̆̅̍̓̏͘͘ⓑ̴̡̢̘̞̝̤̩̩̪̦̤͓̥̟̓̐̀̄̇͜ͅⓔ̶̧̡̟̜̝̭̖̲̜͈̈́̍̋́̊̈́̔̋́͊̚͝ⓓ̸̛̫̓̎́͌͂̈́̈́̐̃͂̑̅͒̅̒̀̇̎̓̔̿̍̕̕͠ ̴̢͍̪̮̺̬̞͙̀̈̅̉̈̍͆̿̚̕͘ͅⓞ̵̢̢̧͈̱̜̱̘͓̞̬̭̟̳̝͇̬̗̼͍̝͚̝̉͆͗̿̔̈̐̊̽̍́̈̈́̿͊̒͂̔̕̕͜͝ⓕ̴̨̨̨̞͎̪̥̱̫̫̥̠͎͕͍̫̝̯͍̫̻̯̦͉̳̞̫̻͛́̀͜͝ͅ ̶̧̛̛̛̝͖̜̝̖̫͙̙͎̙͎͍̮͓̰͍̝͓͕͚̥̺̭͓̹̜͇̦͆̄͂̀̀̿̑̈́̿́̾̋́̽̽̍̎̓́̒̅̇͌̽̔̈̓͆̈̚͜͜͜͝ͅⓡ̸̧̡̢̩̭̮̗̱̞͚͙͛ͅͅͅⓞ̶̢̛̝̗͔̩̘͚̫͖̟̘̭̮̭͕̩̝͙̭̝̮͇̅̎̑͊̌͊͑̾̉̇̀̈́̾̄̍̀̔͊̊͗̌̊̽͊̉̆̆̕̚͜͜͝ⓢ̶̡̢̨̨̡͇̗̰̺͍͔̥̪͔͙͕̼͖̗̠͈̤̳͍̩̣̼̙̰͙̹̈̒̑̆͐̀̐̅͆̿̿̑́͂̍̃̆͑̅ⓔ̴̡̧̧̡̖̜̦̣͍̫͈̀̏̄̋̇̂̅́̑̅̓́̃̄̿̔̈́͋̈͂̿́̐͗͑̄͐͑̾͊̕͘͜͝͝͝ⓢ̸̛̛̙̖͚̇̊̔͆̆̿͆́̅͂͗̍̎́̚ͅ_ **

**_̴̨̤̖̙̲͕̹̼̯͉̦̺̟̱̣̻̙̟̰̬̻͙̗̳̔̃̄͊͑̈͋̾̽̍͆̈́̄̾̑̓͑̆͆̾̀̏͆͜͠͝͝_ **

**_̵̦̗̯̰͇͚̟͔͙̣͈͈͎̘͈̺̈́̀̽̈́̑̑͠͝_ **

 

 

**_“̶T̸h̴i̶s̴ ̷i̵s̷ ̵M̵r̷.̶ ̵I̷e̵r̷o̶ ̷t̶h̵e̵ ̵d̷a̷y̴ ̴h̵e̴ ̴w̴a̶s̸ ̵t̷a̸k̶e̵n̶ ̴i̶n̷t̷o̸ ̸c̸u̸s̵t̴o̶d̶y̶,̵”̶ ̷H̵i̶s̸ ̶M̷o̵t̶h̷e̵r̸ ̸s̶p̴o̸k̶e̴ ̶c̵r̶i̶s̸p̸l̶y̷.̷ ̵P̷o̷i̶s̸o̸n̸ ̷f̴e̸l̴t̶ ̶l̵a̶t̷e̶x̴ ̷s̸h̶o̴v̷e̸ ̶p̵i̴l̷l̴s̸ ̸i̵n̶t̵o̷ ̵h̵i̸s̷ ̴m̵o̶u̷t̴h̸.̴ ̸H̶e̷ ̶t̸r̸i̷e̵d̸ ̸t̵o̵ ̴f̶i̷g̵h̶t̶ ̸a̸g̴a̴i̴n̷s̵t̵ ̵t̸h̴e̵ ̶p̴e̴r̷s̷o̸n̵ ̵f̵o̵r̶c̵e̴ ̷f̴e̴e̵d̷i̶n̷g̷ ̸h̴i̵m̶ ̶t̸h̸e̶ ̵p̶i̴l̴l̷s̴,̸ ̸b̶u̷t̸ ̶t̷h̵e̶r̸e̶ ̶w̵e̸r̴e̴ ̷s̷o̶ ̷m̵a̸n̷y̵ ̴p̷i̴l̴l̷s̷.̴ ̷H̸i̶s̴ ̶m̴o̷u̸t̷h̵ ̶f̸e̸l̷t̷ ̸l̵i̷k̴e̶ ̴a̵ ̴p̵h̷a̴r̶m̸a̸c̶y̵ ̷a̷s̵ ̵h̶e̵ ̸s̴t̵a̸r̴t̸e̶d̷ ̸t̵o̸ ̷c̷h̷o̸k̸e̵ ̷a̷n̴d̴ ̶c̸o̴u̵g̷h̵ ̵o̴n̶ ̴t̶h̴e̶m̶.̴ ̴_ **

**_̵ ̵_ **

**_̶_ **

 

**_“̵I̸n̵ ̴o̸r̴d̵e̷r̷ ̷t̵o̸ ̷c̷o̷n̸t̴i̴n̷u̵e̸ ̵w̷i̶t̷h̷ ̷t̶h̷e̸ ̸p̷r̸o̴c̸e̷d̸u̷r̴e̴,̴ ̵G̷e̸r̵a̸r̸d̵,̷ ̸w̷e̷ ̴n̷e̵e̷d̶ ̷y̷o̴u̷ ̶t̵o̴ ̸s̵w̴a̵l̷l̷o̵w̷ ̵t̴h̴e̴ ̸p̴i̷l̸l̵s̶,̷”̴ ̴K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̷̴̸̷̷̷̵̵̵̷̶̷̶̶̷̵̴̷̵̶̵̴̶̶̶̵̴̷̷̶̸̶̷̵̵̵̵̵̶̷̴̵̸̵̷̸̶̸̵̸̷̷̶̵̷̸̷̷̵̷̴̸̵̸̷̶̸̸̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̴̶̴̴̶̸̸̷̸̴̵̵̶̵̵̶̷̴̵̴̶̷̸̷̸̷̶̷̴̵̴̷̷̶̸̷̶̶̸̴̷̸̸̴̵̶̷̷̸̴̷̸̸̷̵̴̷̴̵̴̴̸̷̸̴̴̸̸̵̸̶̶̴̵̸̵̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ ̴m̵u̵s̶e̷d̴ ̸i̶n̸ ̷h̸i̵s̴ ̷e̷a̴r̴.̴ ̴P̷o̵i̴s̸o̸n̴ ̸j̵e̶r̷k̷e̷d̶ ̶t̵o̴ ̷s̸l̸a̸p̸ ̴h̴i̶m̷ ̵i̷n̵ ̵t̵h̶e̵ ̶f̵a̸c̵e̵ ̸b̸u̷t̴ ̷h̵e̶ ̴w̴a̴s̴ ̸m̸e̸t̸ ̴w̸i̷t̷h̴ ̴a̵ ̸s̴h̵o̶c̴k̸ ̴g̷i̴v̴e̴n̵ ̶t̵o̶ ̴h̷i̵m̶ ̴b̴y̸ ̶t̶h̴e̴ ̵e̷l̷e̸c̶t̵r̶i̷c̵ ̴c̴u̶f̸f̴.̷_ **

**_̵_ **

**_̴̛̭̽̓͊_ **

**_̶̣̲̏̈Ⓣ̷̡̭̘͎͔͔̀ⓗ̶̡̢̖̝̝̍̀́̑̒͠ⓘ̴̣́̈́̏̓ⓢ̸̺̜͓̲̅̾̇̅̅͝ ̴̝̱͈͈̀ⓦ̶̗͙̂͌̿̔́̐ⓐ̴̨̪̤̰̣̗̾̑ⓨ̸̰̞͔̦͒̈́͋̊̀'̸̨̏̊ⓢ̵̧̜̆̐̕ ̷̹͙͑̎̊͑̈́͘ⓑ̸̭̱̔̉̅̽̌̃ͅⓔ̵͇̦͎͠͝ⓣ̷̧̣̜̦̺̼̓͛͊͝ⓣ̵̛͈͙̖̌͑̍̊̕ⓔ̸̼̂͆̉̈́͊͋ⓡ̸̣̠͈̻͉̅̿̚͠͝ ̵͈̖̣̑͊̈́͑̚ⓕ̷̨̫͙̲͈͂̿́̇͜ⓞ̷͚̮͕͉̺̻͌̅̀̚ⓡ̵͖̮̯̜̮̫̆̚ ̷̹̣͎͖̹͖̈́̂̓̍̔ⓜ̴͙̖͖̃͝͠ⓔ̵͔̯͍̀̓̔ ̶̤͎̱̈́ͅⒾ̷̘̗̈́̐̓͛̈́̑ ̷̭̘̾̋̍̈͆̐ⓓ̴̭̺̣́̌̽ⓞ̴̛͚̭͔̰͐͐̓ⓝ̸̙̳͕̌̅̐̿'̸̢̞̠͚͉̑̐͋̌ⓣ̴̲̿ ̴̜̭̬̝̮̆͜ⓒ̷̨̙͙͍̠̞͝ⓐ̸̠́͐͂̆́ⓡ̴̧̮̜̙͙̹̽͝ⓔ̴̳̈͠ ̴͔̪̥̙͚̊̈̐ͅⓣ̶̨͕̀͊̔͑͠ⓞ̸̧̳͚̭̼̮̇̈́͊͂̓ ̵̼̙̋ⓛ̶̩̉ⓘ̸̹͔̪̪͇̒̐̀̇̅̈́ⓥ̵̛͈̱͍̭̆͑̐̽ⓔ̸̧̤͛ ̵̫̹̱̩̓̋̒͘ⓣ̶͚͎͔̺͚̹̏̈́̄̌̕ⓗ̴̠̺̫̺̝̆̅ⓔ̷̨̱͈̭̥̎͒ ̴̱̠̾̔̍̇̄ⓛ̴̡̡͔̯̇̌̓ⓘ̶͎̎̓͜͝͝ⓕ̶̽̈́̋̎̐͠ͅⓔ̷̛̻̺͋̀́̃ ̸̭̽Ⓘ̷̱̳̳̍͗̇̀͊̚'̷̘̻̥̑̃̃ⓥ̴̳͎͖̇͑͂̽̾̈́ⓔ̴̪̳͖̹̤͒̊͊ ̴̱̳̬̈́̈́͊̏̅̓ⓒ̸̢̧͚̤͎̇̋́ͅⓗ̷͎̖̓̊ⓞ̴͕́̏ⓢ̶̡̝͔̱̽̌̈́͐̕ⓔ̸̤̿̅̌ⓝ̶̢̠̗͙͂_ **

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**_̴̛͈̓̄͌̀͜_ **

 

 

**_P̵o̶i̴s̸o̶n̷ ̶l̷e̶t̷ ̷o̴u̴t̴ ̵a̷ ̶g̷r̸u̴n̶t̴,̸ ̵“̴T̴h̵a̶t̴’̴s̷ ̴n̶o̶t̴ ̸M̴Y̸ ̵N̶A̵M̴E̶!̶”̷ ̶h̶e̸ ̸r̵o̷a̴r̵e̷d̷.̷ ̴P̸i̵l̴l̶s̷ ̵f̴e̸l̴l̴ ̶f̵r̴o̸m̷ ̶h̴i̷s̶ ̶m̵o̷u̷t̸h̶ ̴l̸i̶k̴e̶ ̷r̴a̵i̶n̸ ̴d̷i̷d̵ ̴t̶h̶e̸ ̶h̴e̸a̵v̸e̸n̵s̶.̸ ̶T̸h̸e̵ ̷g̴l̴o̴v̴e̶d̶ ̵h̵a̵n̵d̶ ̷q̵u̸i̶c̶k̸l̶y̷ ̵s̴h̶o̷v̶e̸d̷ ̶t̵h̵e̶ ̴p̵i̸l̵l̴s̶ ̶b̶a̷c̷k̶ ̸i̸n̴t̶o̸ ̷h̸i̴s̸ ̴m̶o̴u̴t̸h̸.̵ ̷ ̴T̶h̷e̴y̴ ̴k̶e̵p̸t̶ ̷o̸n̴ ̸s̸h̷o̵v̸i̷n̶g̵ ̴a̵n̶d̶ ̷s̶h̴o̵v̸i̸n̴g̴ ̵p̵i̵l̸l̵s̴ ̴i̵n̷t̶o̷ ̴P̵o̷i̸s̵o̶n̷’̷s̸ ̸t̵h̸r̴o̵a̸t̶,̴ ̶u̴n̵t̴i̶l̵ ̷h̶e̴ ̷w̷a̸s̴ ̸f̴o̸r̵c̸e̸d̶ ̴t̶o̸ ̶s̵w̸a̵l̸l̷o̶w̷ ̶a̴l̷l̴ ̸t̷h̷e̶ ̵p̸i̶l̴l̷s̶ ̶d̶r̸y̷ ̸o̵n̵e̷ ̷b̸y̷ ̴o̴n̸e̵.̶ ̸_ **

**_̶ ̶_ **

**_̵ ̵_ **

**_̶H̴e̵ ̵h̷e̸a̸r̶d̴ ̷a̵ ̵c̴l̸i̷c̷k̴i̴n̴g̶ ̷s̵o̷u̵n̶d̵ ̶a̷n̵d̵ ̶s̷u̶d̷d̶e̴n̵l̶y̵ ̸a̶n̸o̷t̷h̴e̵r̸ ̸i̵m̴a̴g̴e̶ ̸o̸f̴ ̷t̶h̵e̸ ̶m̴a̷n̷ ̶s̴l̴i̶d̵ ̶i̷n̷t̷o̴ ̴v̷i̸e̶w̴.̴ ̶T̸h̸i̶s̶ ̵o̸n̴e̵ ̷d̸i̶d̷n̴’̴t̶ ̵l̴o̴o̴k̷ ̴t̷o̵o̷ ̷d̶i̶f̵f̶e̴r̴e̷n̷t̸.̷ ̵H̷i̴s̴ ̴c̴l̵o̸t̴h̵e̷s̶ ̶w̶e̷r̶e̵ ̵c̷h̸a̶n̷g̷e̶d̵ ̴f̶r̷o̶m̴ ̷a̵ ̶b̶r̷i̸g̶h̷t̴ ̶g̶r̷e̶e̷n̵ ̷a̵n̵d̸ ̴y̴e̷l̶l̵o̶w̷ ̵j̵a̷c̴k̴e̶t̵ ̵t̴o̸ ̷a̷n̷ ̶a̶l̵l̶ ̷w̸h̸i̷t̸e̶ ̸s̸h̷o̷r̶t̸ ̵s̵l̶e̷e̶v̴e̶d̷ ̶s̸h̷i̶r̶t̸,̷ ̵h̶i̴s̴ ̴e̶y̴e̷s̸ ̷w̶e̵r̸e̶ ̴a̸ ̶d̶u̸l̵l̸e̴r̷ ̴c̵o̷l̶o̸r̴ ̴t̸h̶a̶n̷ ̸t̷h̴e̶ ̴v̵i̶b̵r̶a̷n̵t̷ ̵g̵r̶e̷e̷n̴-̶h̵a̸z̸e̵l̴ ̵t̸h̵e̷y̴ ̸w̸e̷r̶e̸ ̷i̶n̵ ̵t̸h̶e̴ ̸l̶a̷s̵t̵ ̸p̵i̵c̵t̴u̸r̵e̷.̶ ̶I̶n̵ ̶f̴a̷c̷t̷,̴ ̶t̶h̶e̷y̸ ̴j̵u̶s̸t̷ ̸l̶o̶o̵k̸e̵d̷ ̶b̸r̶o̴w̷n̵.̸ ̷H̸e̷ ̴h̵a̴d̶ ̵t̷h̵i̶c̴k̶ ̵b̶a̵g̶s̸ ̴u̶n̶d̵e̸r̷ ̷h̴i̵s̷ ̷e̷y̵e̷s̷ ̶a̴n̵d̸ ̴h̷e̴ ̸l̸o̶o̶k̴e̴d̷ ̵l̸i̴k̶e̶ ̴h̴e̶ ̶w̸a̸s̷ ̴r̷e̴a̸d̵y̷ ̵e̸i̶t̴h̶e̴r̷ ̸t̸o̶ ̵s̴c̵r̵e̴a̵m̸ ̸o̷r̷ ̵c̸r̵y̷.̶ ̸P̵o̸i̷s̴o̸n̴ ̵s̵a̵w̶ ̸a̴ ̴s̷c̷a̷r̵ ̶r̷u̷n̷n̸i̷n̴g̵ ̵a̶l̴o̸n̷g̷ ̴h̵i̵s̵ ̶t̴h̵r̵o̴a̴t̷.̷_ **

**_̶ ̵_ **

****

**_̷_ **

 

**_"̷W̴h̶a̸-̷"̸_ **

**_̵_ **

**_̶h̸e̵ ̷w̷a̷s̸ ̸c̷u̷t̴ ̴o̴f̸f̵ ̶w̸h̷e̶n̶ ̷t̸h̵e̸ ̵s̸l̵i̷d̸e̶ ̵s̴u̸d̶d̵e̸n̴l̶y̶ ̶c̵h̴a̴n̵g̷e̸d̷ ̸t̷o̷ ̸a̵n̴o̴t̸h̸e̶r̴ ̷p̸i̶c̸t̴u̷r̸e̵.̶ ̸T̴h̵i̶s̴ ̶o̷n̵e̴ ̷m̵a̴d̵e̸ ̸t̷e̵a̷r̶s̶ ̵w̴e̷l̶l̴ ̵i̵n̷ ̸P̴o̷i̶s̷o̶n̵'̴s̷ ̴e̸y̷e̴s̸ ̷a̴s̷ ̶h̴e̴ ̸c̸h̷o̸k̵e̵d̵ ̸b̶a̸c̵k̷ ̸a̴ ̸s̷o̶b̸.̴_ **

**_̵_ **

**_̵"̷W̷h̸a̸t̶ ̴t̶h̶e̸ ̴f̴u̶c̸k̸?̸"̴ ̵h̴e̵ ̶s̵h̸r̴i̸l̶l̴e̶d̸.̸_ **

**_̵_ **

**_̵P̸o̷i̷s̴o̴n̶ ̷f̶e̷l̸t̵ ̸K K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ ̴s̸ ̴c̷o̵l̸d̵ ̵l̷i̶p̷s̴ ̷a̶g̷a̶i̷n̷s̶t̵ ̸h̷i̴s̴ ̸e̷a̸r̵,̵ ̴"̶L̸a̵n̶g̷u̷a̷g̶e̶,̷ ̶M̵r̷.̴ ̶W̸a̵y̶,̷"̵ ̶_ **

**_̵_ **

**_̷A̸ ̶t̵h̶i̴c̶k̶ ̸I̵V̴ ̸n̵e̵e̴d̸l̶e̶ ̶s̵l̴o̵w̸l̴y̴ ̷s̶l̵i̸d̷ ̵i̴n̵t̷o̴ ̸P̵o̷i̷s̵o̵n̴'̵s̴ ̴a̸r̸m̶,̷ ̸h̴i̶s̷ ̸s̷t̸o̸m̴a̸c̴h̵ ̷t̵w̷i̶s̸t̵e̴d̷ ̵a̸n̷d̷ ̷h̶i̷s̸ ̸v̸i̷s̴i̷o̴n̴ ̴b̴l̸u̶r̴r̸e̸d̵.̶_ **

**_̴_ **

**_̵"̵T̷h̶i̸s̷ ̴w̸a̴s̷ ̴M̶r̵.̵ ̸I̴e̷r̸o̸ ̴a̶f̵t̴e̴r̶ ̶h̶i̸s̸ ̴p̸o̸o̴r̵ ̶p̷e̴r̴f̵o̷r̸m̵a̵n̵c̵e̷ ̷a̶t̸ ̵t̸e̵s̵t̶ ̴o̶n̴e̶ ̶p̸o̷i̸n̶t̴ ̸f̷i̷v̸e̸,̴"̷ ̴H̷i̸s̶ ̸M̸o̵t̷h̴e̷r̴ ̶m̷o̴n̶o̵t̵o̴n̵e̸d̶,̷ ̵P̷o̶i̶s̴o̵n̶ ̶c̸o̸u̵l̸d̵ ̶h̷e̴a̷r̸ ̵t̵h̸e̸ ̶s̷m̵i̴r̸k̶ ̵i̴n̵ ̶h̵e̵r̴ ̶v̵o̸i̵c̴e̵ ̴a̶n̷d̸ ̷w̷a̴n̸t̶e̸d̶ ̴t̵o̸ ̵s̷h̴o̶w̴ ̸h̸e̸r̷ ̴r̴i̴g̸h̶t̵ ̴w̸h̶e̷r̶e̴ ̸t̸o̵ ̸p̶u̶t̵ ̴i̴t̷.̸_ **

**_̷_ **

Frank _ \- no - Mr. Iero _ h̸i̷s̷ ̵c̸o̸l̶o̴r̵l̷e̷s̶s̶ ̴t̷h̴o̴u̵g̶h̴t̵s̵ ̶c̵o̸r̸r̶e̴c̵t̷e̸d̷.̴ ̸

̴P̷o̸i̸s̷o̴n̴ ̷s̴n̴a̷r̵l̷e̴d̷,̷ ̵f̶o̵a̷m̵ ̷b̴u̸b̴b̵l̷i̶n̶g̶ ̸a̷t̶ ̸h̵i̵s̸ ̴l̶i̵p̷s̵,̵ ̶"̸F̸u̸c̸k̷ ̸O̵F̵F̴!̸"̵ ̸h̴e̶ ̸s̵h̷o̶u̷t̶e̵d̸ ̶a̴t̷ ̴h̸i̵s̷ ̵c̵o̷l̴o̶r̵l̴e̴s̷s̸ ̷t̴h̵o̵u̵g̷h̸t̶s̵.̶

̷

̴"̷L̷a̶n̴g̵u̶a̸g̷e̵,̸ ̶M̷r̴ ̷W̶a̸y̵,̴"̴ ̴K K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ ̸r̷e̸p̸e̶a̶t̵e̶d̴ ̸b̷u̶t̶ ̶P̵o̴i̶s̷o̶n̸ ̶c̴o̷u̵l̶d̶n̷'̵t̸ ̵f̸o̸c̴u̸s̸ ̸o̸n̷ ̶r̸e̷c̸e̸i̴v̵i̸n̵g̴ ̶f̵u̸r̴t̷h̸e̵r̷ ̵t̵o̵r̶t̶u̷r̷e̴.̷ ̵A̵l̷l̴ ̶h̸e̴ ̷c̶o̸u̸l̸d̶ ̴f̴o̴c̴u̷s̸ ̷o̶n̶ ̸w̶a̵s̴ ̶t̸h̶e̵ ̴i̶m̶a̵g̵e̵ ̷t̷h̷a̷t̵ ̸s̴t̶o̵o̷d̷ ̷b̶e̸f̷o̸r̷e̴ ̶h̸i̸m̴,̸ ̷s̴o̷ ̴r̵e̶a̴l̷ ̵h̴e̷ ̵c̷o̴u̴l̴d̴ ̸a̸l̶m̵o̴s̷t̴ ̵t̵o̸u̴c̶h̵ ̷i̷t̶.̷

̶

̵M̴r̵.̸ ̷I̷e̷r̴o̷'̴s̴ ̸h̵a̷i̷r̸ ̵w̸a̶s̶ ̶c̷u̶t̶ ̸i̵n̵ ̵t̶h̸a̷t̷ ̵m̸o̵d̵e̶l̶ ̵c̴i̶t̷i̷z̸e̸n̸ ̶d̸o̴u̴c̴h̸e̸-̸b̸a̶g̸ ̵w̷a̶y̴ ̸a̷l̴l̶ ̵t̴h̸e̶ ̶o̴t̷h̶e̶r̷ ̵p̵e̷o̷p̸l̵e̷ ̶a̸s̶s̶i̴g̵n̵e̸d̶ ̶m̴a̶l̸e̵ ̶a̵t̴ ̶b̴i̷r̶t̸h̸ ̸p̶a̴t̵i̴e̵n̵t̵s̴ ̸w̶e̶r̷e̶.̸ ̶I̸n̵c̵l̶u̶d̴i̴n̶g̷ ̸G̵e̸r̵a̵r̷d̵'̴s̶.̵

̷

That’s not my real name.  P̶o̴i̴s̵o̴n̴ ̵c̶o̴r̸r̸e̶c̶t̷e̴d̵ ̶h̷i̶m̸s̸e̶l̴f̷,̸ ̴h̴e̴ ̵f̵e̸l̸t̷ ̴a̸ ̶c̸h̴i̷l̶l̵ ̷r̴u̴n̴ ̸d̸o̵w̴n̵ ̷h̸i̴s̷ ̵s̸p̶i̴n̴e̷.̵ ̴H̵e̵ ̵h̶a̷d̴ ̷n̷e̴v̷e̴r̵ ̷r̸e̸f̷e̵r̵r̶e̴d̷ ̵t̶o̸ ̸h̶i̵m̷s̵e̶l̸f̷ ̶a̸s̸ ̷G̴e̶r̴a̵r̶d̴ ̵b̸e̷f̸o̶r̴e̴.̷ ̴

̶

̶T̶h̸e̵ ̶h̵a̵i̴r̶c̴u̶t̶ ̶w̴a̷s̸ ̵t̸h̶e̴ ̸l̶e̸a̶s̴t̴ ̵o̶f̸ ̶t̸h̴e̶ ̶p̸r̸o̷b̸l̶e̵m̷s̸.̴ ̶M̴r̴.̴ ̸I̴e̴r̶o̴ ̷h̵a̵d̴ ̶t̷w̷o̴ ̶b̸l̷a̷c̷k̸ ̶e̷y̶e̵s̵,̸ ̶o̴n̷e̴ ̸o̶f̶ ̵t̷h̷e̴m̷ ̴w̵i̶t̷h̵ ̷t̸h̴e̸ ̸e̶y̶e̵l̵i̷d̶ ̶c̷u̷t̶ ̶o̷p̵e̶n̸ ̴a̵n̶d̴ ̷s̸w̴o̴l̶l̸e̸n̷ ̴s̷h̵u̷t̵.̶ ̵H̶i̶s̶ ̸e̶y̴e̵s̷ ̴w̵e̴r̷e̴ ̶d̶i̵l̷a̵t̴e̸d̷ ̸f̶r̴o̷m̴ ̵n̷o̵t̸h̶i̷n̷g̸ ̴o̴t̵h̶e̵r̴ ̴t̷h̶a̵n̵ ̵p̷i̶l̵l̷s̴ ̸a̸n̴d̸ ̸d̶r̷u̷g̵s̴.̷ ̸A̶ ̸f̶r̷e̸s̸h̴ ̶c̸u̶t̴ ̵r̵a̸n̷ ̴a̸c̵r̶o̸s̷s̶ ̸f̵r̶o̸m̶ ̶h̵i̴s̸ ̴c̸h̶e̵e̴k̷ ̵t̵o̴ ̷h̵i̶s̸ ̵j̷a̵w̸b̴o̷n̷e̵ ̶a̸n̶d̶ ̶s̸o̴m̸e̶o̸n̵e̵ ̷h̸a̸d̵ ̸r̷i̸p̶p̷e̵d̷ ̶o̸u̶t̴ ̸t̴h̶e̶ ̷s̶t̵i̸t̴c̴h̸e̸s̶ ̴a̸l̵o̶n̸g̴ ̸h̵i̶s̴ ̴m̸o̵u̸t̵h̷ ̷t̴h̶a̴t̵ ̶w̷e̶r̸e̵ ̶a̷l̸m̷o̶s̶t̴ ̴c̵o̵m̶p̶l̷e̴t̸e̵l̵y̵ ̷h̴e̵a̵l̶e̵d̴.̴ ̴T̴h̶i̶c̴k̵ ̴c̸r̸i̷m̷s̶o̷n̶ ̶p̵o̴u̸r̷e̴d̷ ̴f̶r̴o̸m̶ ̸e̸v̸e̵r̶y̷w̴h̸e̶r̵e̵ ̵p̸o̵s̶s̵i̷b̵l̵e̸,̷ ̴P̸o̴i̷s̶o̵n̶ ̷s̴a̷w̴ ̶a̴ ̸t̴o̵o̸t̵h̵ ̷t̸h̷a̸t̶ ̷w̴a̶s̶ ̴p̴r̴o̵b̶a̵b̵l̸y̷ ̵d̷i̷s̸l̷o̴d̶g̸e̸d̷ ̶j̵u̸t̷ ̴o̴u̸t̸ ̸o̴f̴ ̸o̷n̷e̴ ̴o̸f̴ ̵t̴h̵e̵ ̵s̸p̶l̴i̴t̷s̶ ̶i̴n̴ ̸M̵r̷.̴ ̵I̶e̴r̴o̶'̵s̷ ̸l̶i̴p̷s̸.̶ ̵A̴ ̵c̷r̷u̷e̷l̶ ̶m̸i̴x̶ ̷o̸f̷ ̵s̸l̴o̶b̶e̶r̷ ̵a̷n̸d̵ ̷b̶l̸o̷o̷d̷ ̴r̷a̴n̵ ̶f̸r̴o̶m̵ ̶h̸i̶s̵ ̷m̶o̶u̶t̶h̶.̵ ̴M̴r̸.̵ ̵I̶e̴r̶o̵ ̴l̴o̸o̶k̴e̵d̸ ̴l̷i̴k̴e̷ ̶h̴e̴ ̶w̸a̷n̵t̶e̶d̵ ̶t̷o̴ ̴d̴i̷e̵.̷ ̷H̴i̶s̶ ̵f̸a̴c̶e̶ ̷w̵a̴s̵ ̵c̵o̶v̵e̵r̶e̷d̸ ̸i̷n̸ ̸g̶r̵i̸m̵e̶ ̸a̷n̸d̶ ̷b̶l̷o̴o̶d̴,̴ ̸a̵l̵l̵ ̶o̸f̶ ̵i̵t̵ ̶h̴i̵s̶ ̶o̵w̶n̶.̶ ̸P̴o̴i̸s̷o̶n̷ ̴w̶a̷n̶t̷e̴d̵ ̶t̵o̸ ̵l̴o̷o̶k̷ ̷a̴w̵a̵y̴,̶ ̸h̴e̶ ̴w̶a̶n̸t̶e̶d̶ ̵t̷o̶ ̵c̸l̷o̶s̴e̸ ̴h̵i̶s̷ ̵e̷y̷e̶s̸,̶ ̴b̴u̸t̷ ̴h̵e̵ ̶c̵o̸u̶l̷d̶n̵t̸.̴

̷

 

Why am I thinking about the deset>>>

 

PLEAse 

HelP mEE>

 

P̵o̵i̷s̸o̸n̴ ̴f̸e̶l̶t̴ ̸h̸i̵s̸ ̶l̸i̷p̶s̸ ̷f̸u̷m̴b̴l̷e̵ ̶b̴e̴f̴o̷r̸e̶ ̵h̷e̵ ̴c̵o̷u̴l̶d̸ ̸c̷o̶n̷t̴r̶o̴l̶ ̸h̴i̵m̸s̶e̸l̶f̸,̶ ̴"̸W̴-̷w̶h̷a̸t̸ ̴h̷a̴p̶p̸e̷n̶e̶d̵ ̵t̶o̶ ̸h̶i̸-̶h̷i̴-̴h̷i̵m̸?̶"̷ ̶h̷e̴ ̵s̵t̸u̶t̸t̶e̸r̴e̴d̷ ̴o̵u̴t̸.̵ ̴P̶o̷i̴s̴o̷n̸ ̶r̶e̸g̴r̵e̵t̷t̸e̸d̶ ̴t̴h̷e̶ ̸q̴u̸e̴s̷t̴i̴o̵n̸ ̶t̵h̵e̶ ̵m̴o̸m̴e̸n̵t̶ ̶i̴t̵ ̶l̸e̶f̸t̶ ̶h̶i̸s̵ ̴m̷o̴u̴t̵h̵.̴ ̶

̶

̷H̷e̴ ̴p̸i̸c̴t̶u̷r̵e̸s̶ ̸H̶i̸s̷ ̴M̶o̵t̶h̷e̸r̷ ̶p̵l̷a̸c̶i̶n̴g̴ ̶a̵ ̸p̷e̷r̷f̵e̴c̴t̸ ̶m̵a̷n̷i̷c̶u̵r̷e̸d̸ ̵n̸a̴i̴l̶ ̸o̵n̵ ̸h̶e̴r̶ ̸l̴i̶p̷,̶ ̴"̶W̷e̷l̵l̴,̵ ̶i̴t̴'̸s̸ ̸a̷ ̵b̷i̷t̴ ̸o̵f̸ ̴a̷ ̸c̴o̴n̸u̵n̶d̴r̴u̶m̴ ̵t̶o̶ ̷e̶x̷p̵l̷a̷i̷n̷ ̷G̷e̴r̸a̵r̸d̸,̷"̷ ̸s̵h̴e̸ ̴b̴e̵g̸a̷n̴.̵ ̴

̴"̷P̶e̵r̶h̶a̵p̵s̸ ̸y̶o̴u̸ ̵w̸o̴u̴l̷d̴ ̴l̵i̶k̴e̶ ̴t̶o̸ ̴s̷e̴e̶ ̴t̴h̷e̴ ̵f̵o̶o̶t̵a̴g̴e̸ ̷o̸f̴ ̷t̵h̵e̸ ̵i̴n̷c̷i̷d̷e̷n̴t̷?̶"̸ ̷K K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ ̴h̶i̴s̴s̸e̴d̶ ̴i̷n̴ ̸P̵o̸i̸s̷o̷n̶'̵s̴ ̸e̵a̷r̸ ̷t̴a̷u̷n̸t̴i̵n̶g̵l̴y̶.̴

̵

̶

̵A̷n̸d̸ ̶h̸i̵s̸ ̴n̶a̷m̴e̴ ̸w̶a̴s̵ ̵M̴r̵.̷ ̸I̸e̵r̴o̷.̶

̴

̷B̵u̸t̸ ̴w̸a̵s̸n̶'̵t̵ ̷a̸t̶ ̵t̴h̶e̵ ̸s̴a̴m̶e̶ ̴t̵i̴m̴e̴.̵

̴

̵

̵P̵o̸i̵s̵o̵n̶ ̶w̶a̷s̵ ̸c̵u̵t̴ ̶o̶f̸f̷ ̵b̴y̶ ̶H̷i̷s̴ ̷M̶o̶t̵h̵e̶r̸ ̶c̸l̸a̶s̷p̴i̵n̸g̷ ̸h̶e̸r̶ ̵h̸a̸n̶d̴s̴ ̸t̶o̵g̷e̴t̶h̷e̷r̵,̵ ̴"̶T̶h̶a̸t̷'̵s̷ ̸a̵ ̴w̸o̴n̶d̷e̵r̷f̶u̴l̸ ̷i̸d̴e̴a̶,̶ ̴K K̸̡̢̨̨̧̧͖͈̲͉̞̯͓͓̘͕̫̰͈̩̰͖̣̜̲̮̠̱͉̪͖̗̹̬̻̭̟̘͎̫̩̱̖͓̞̼̬̫͈̲̝̰̘̂̃̏͗̿̀͐̉̃͜͝͝ͅͅ0̸̡̢̨̠̮̬̹̘̯̭͇͚̘͍̟͍̻͙̻̟̜̙̯̲̑̈̃̍̓̾̇̎͆͆́̐̀͗̈̓͂́͌̐̀͒̔͂̅̊̃̈̒̈́͋͑̽̍̏͋̅̑̉̕͘͜͠͝͝ͅŗ̷̧̢̧̛̳͎͎̥̙̬͔̮̤͕̫̼͚̺̖̲̬͚̙̺̠̥̲̭̗͎̣̼͖̜͍̝̹͕͚̣͚̞̝̠̯̻̬̈́̀̅̀̆̍̂̈̔͋͗̌̿̑̃̅̑̓̈͗̆̌̃̾̀̚͜͝Z̴̡̡̡̗͔̰̮̱͖̪̖͎̠̲͕̭̟̖̬̻̮̦̞͙͇̜͈̻̲̳̝͑͋͛̽͊̈́͛͐̏́̽͑̄͌͌͌̍̒̋̑̎̉̇́̋̉̍̚̕͜͝͝ͅ3̶̢̧̨̛̳̭̗͍̭͓̫̹̜̲̗̲͈͇̦̤̼̪̥̟̰͍͉̭̹̮̘̯̗̫͓̥̝̬̦̼̅̊͂̔̍̍͗́̆̈̓͋͆̍͌͆͂̃́̇͐̀͛̎̈́̕͘͝͝͠͝ͅ ̶"̴ ̷s̶h̴e̵ ̶e̸x̸c̸l̵a̸i̷m̶e̵d̵ ̴l̷i̶k̴e̵ ̷h̷e̶ ̸h̸a̵d̸ ̷s̴u̸g̸g̴e̴s̶t̸e̵d̸ ̵t̶h̴e̷y̸ ̴g̸o̸ ̴t̶o̵ ̶t̵h̸e̶ ̵a̴m̶u̶s̵e̵m̸e̸n̴t̶ ̴p̸a̸r̴k̶ ̵o̸r̵ ̶y̵a̷ ̴k̸n̶o̷w̴,̴ ̴s̴o̶m̸e̵t̵h̸i̸n̶g̶ ̴t̸h̴a̸t̴ ̶d̷i̸d̴n̴'̷t̷ ̷m̴a̵k̷e̶ ̵P̶o̴i̷s̷o̷n̵ ̸w̷a̸n̴t̷ ̸t̸o̵ ̵h̸u̵r̷l̵ ̸h̵i̴m̸s̶e̵l̵f̸ ̴o̶f̷f̷ ̸a̶ ̶b̶u̷i̸l̸d̸i̴n̶g̴.̷

̷

̴

H̴e̵ ̷h̸e̴a̶r̸d̶ ̷t̷h̷e̸ ̶s̸o̷u̶n̸d̷ ̷o̴f̶ ̵t̶h̷e̴ ̶s̷l̶i̵d̵e̵s̸ ̵c̸l̶i̵c̵k̸i̴n̸g̶,̴ ̷a̶n̸d̷ ̴t̸h̴e̷ ̵s̷a̷m̷e̸ ̸b̴l̸a̶c̷k̴ ̶a̴n̶d̷ ̵w̵h̶i̴t̷e̴ ̵t̴h̵r̴e̸e̶ ̴t̷w̸o̶ ̴o̸n̶e̶ ̵c̷o̵u̴n̴t̷d̴o̷w̸n̵ ̶p̶l̸a̸y̸e̴d̴.̶ ̵

̷

̷P̵o̸i̷s̵o̸n̴'̵s̸ ̷b̵r̷e̸a̸t̷h̴ ̵h̷i̴t̷c̷h̵e̸d̵ ̴w̸h̴e̴n̴ ̶h̵e̵ ̵f̸e̵l̵t̵ ̴a̵n̵o̸t̸h̵e̷r̴ ̵I̵V̸ ̷s̶l̶i̵d̸e̷ ̶i̷n̸t̵o̵ ̴h̷i̵s̶ ̸a̷r̸m̵ ̵a̸n̴d̸ ̶s̵t̴a̴r̴t̶e̴d̶ ̵t̴o̷ ̴p̴u̷m̷p̸ ̴m̶o̵r̷e̵ ̵c̵h̴e̵m̷i̶c̶a̶l̴s̵ ̸i̶n̸t̶o̵ ̶h̷i̵m̴.̵ ̸

 

_ The footage was black and white. It started with Mr. Iero being escorted down the hall by an exterminator. The exterminator looked super familiar to Poison, like a song he used to play over and over again as a tween that was now long gone in his memory but if he heard it again he would certainly remember. Poison shifted what little he could in the seat and adjusted his eyes to focus on the ‘crow. The video wasn’t anything interesting at the moment, just Mr. Iero being escorted down different halls and elevators n shit. The crow was tall, had what Poison expected was blond or brown hair, and had an extremely familiar face. Poison squinted until it hurt his head. The ‘Crow spoke sharp orders to Mr. Iero, and it was his voice that made Poison’s head throw further back, eyes bulge out of his skull, and a fresh coat of sweat to break out on his forehead. _

 

“Mikey,” he breathed.

 


	7. The Footage

_ ccccccccccccccExterminator Mikey Way escorted Mr. Iero down the long narrow hall that Poison was just dragged down. When they approached the room with the tall and thin doorway, Mikey shoved Mr. Iero forwards. Exterminator Mikey’s fingers wrapped tightly around the solid metal cuffs that kept Mr. Iero’s arms behind his back. Mr Iero was fuming, to say the least. After having been fucking electrocuted into taking what he of all people would know was way too many pills, he kind of was in a bitchy mood.  _

 

**_If a former addict thinks you’re giving people too many pills at once, you’re giving them too many pills_ ** _ Mr. Iero thought bitterly. _

 

 

_ Gerard couldn’t believe his own eyes, “Mikey,” he gaped. _

_ It couldn’t be. _

_ But it was. _

 

_ “Walk faster,” Exterminator Mikey clipped. There was something about the guy that gave Mr. Iero the creeps. Like he were a shell of his former self of something.  _

 

_ But now wasn’t time to give some bitch ass ‘Crow a therapy session, so Mr. Iero whipped around to say a snarky comment, active bitch face in full flair. _

 

_ But he was torn from his bitch face when his eyes locked onto a familiar face. Inside one of the glass tube cells that Mr. Iero was sent to upon his arrival, after he attempted to burn down his given bedroom, stood a guy who for some reason snagged Mr. Iero’s attention. _

_ ̵̧̡̨̨̧̨̨̡̛͕̫̪̭̻͓̫͔̙͖̩̺̲͕̖̙̬͕͔̖̼̦͔͓͍̙̱̍̀̄̈̏̀͌̓͋̈́͋̍̓̒̕͜͜͠͠ͅ ̵̡̡̧̡̨̧̢̡̡̡̨̢̨̡̨̧̢̡̨̡̛̝̼̭̳̯͇͔͔͚̼͚̠͈̣̯̺͕̥͎̯̠̖̲̮͇̥̱̞̜̠̮̦̼̳̦̩̮͕͔̯̙̪̻̦͍̙̝̗͇̗̤̯̯̞͇̠̭̳̯̺͍̪͖̭̟̙̖͓͙̹̰̘̞̘̣̝̳̲̺̪̖̗̱̞͈̻͚͚̜̖̤̼̖̲̟̫͉̪̱̪̪̝͔̱͇͉͕͇̱͙͕̰̹̭̯̥̬̳͕͙͎̰͖͓͙̻͕̖̞̖͍̞̠̱̟̤͔͚̰̯̤͕̮̳̱͖̳̱̳̞͓̤͉̩̯͔̺̲͇̠̹̹̲͓̘͖̼̭̪̣̯͓̞̗͎͎̣͚̱̻͓̯̪̜̀͌͐͑̑̓̀̽̊̈̍͛̈̿̏̆̔̆͂͛̌̑͊̀̈́́̓͑̾́̎̀͐̃̈́̈́̏̆͒̕͘̚̚͘̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̧̨̧̨̡̡̢̨̨̧̧̧̢̢̢̡̡̨̛̛̲͇͈̪̘̱̟̝͇̰͉̦͎͈̰̖͚̺̟̠̱̬͎̭͍̱͎͈͕͎̙̝̟̫̩̤̮͓͉̦̮̞̮̥̪͖̰̮͙̭͚̠̘͈̗̻͔̗͙̙̯͕͙̲̫̮͍̱̗͇̫̹̼̮̯̣͓̤̭͔̣̝̲̦̯̥̦͓̞̻̜̤̩̠̩͎̰̙̤͔̖̗̟̯̹̬̤̣̗̮̘̦͕̟̦͉̺̘͙͙͕̘̜̞̦̜̩̪̻͚͍͚͇̣͈͉̫̼̹̤̱̲̯̠̦̻̠̬̺̙̹̲͓̮̲̙̼̣͙̘̣̤̦͓̬͇̳̣̞̳̖̺̮͕̘̝̝͛̄͛̒̓͑̔͌͊̈́͛͑̀́̅́̒̆̐͑́̊͛́͛̋̾̈́̄͗̂̊̌̊̀̓͐͗̍̾͆̓̓̓̅̒̂͒̉̎͑̒͑̂͗͂͒̃̎̀̽̾͆̎͆̅̃͋͑͊̆͆̂̿̈̽̇̍̄͂͋̊͐͛̑̾͛̆̌̅́̋͑̒̎̐̃͛̏̽̇̿̔̔̌̈̔̋̽͂̎͂̌̍̎̂̒̀̿͊̔̏̿͛͆͗͋͑̊̎̿̔͑̚̚̕̚̚̕̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̢̢̨̡̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̣̪̯̥̮͎̜̫͈̦̤̟̘͍̘̗͔̠̘̼̮͚̟͉̫̙̺͓̥̳̖̖͓͍̞̟̠͇͓͈̖̓͑̾̌̐͛̔̊̂͒̾̈́̏̓̏̈́̿͌̅̓̌́̄̈́͐̀͆͂̄̇̈́̓͊̿̈̽̋̈́̑͗̀͐͑̓͊͛̏̄̓̽̃͂͆͊̍̓͊̃̊̂̈͗͗̑̂̿̂̍͐̑̏̇̌̔̌̄̉̂̑͂̋͊̏̅̃̈͆̿̐̓̄͗̍̄̎̒͊̇͗͌̃̓͛̉͛́͑͂̒̔̉̔̄̊͒̈̆͛͂̇̊̐͒̋͂͐̅̉́͑̓͒̅͑̎̔̊͛͂̽̐͛͊͊̑̂̾̇̓̑̾̾̈̒̏̽̍̈̿̂̽̃͌͂̊͊͆̚͘͘̚͘̚͘͘͘̚̕͘̕͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅ ̷̡̨̨̢̢̡̧̧̧̢̡̢̧̡̫͍̱̲͈̺͔̗̞͎͉̯̹͇͈͕̩̠̝̣͓͓͚̲̘͕͍͎͎̗̣̗̦̟̪̦͚̯̯͍̮̻̺̜̺͉̯͍̻̜͉͓̦̥̙͙̘͓̠̝̣̤̱̯͔͉̟̱͉͕̲̺͚͉͓̯̖̻̬̩̱̟̼̮̋̒̈́͋̚͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̨̧̢̡̨̡̨̡̧̢̢̢̨̡̢̨̡̢̡̨̧̛̰̙̠̗̱̹̰̳̥̻̯̖̦̼̣̭͉̥̝͈̩̱͈̝̲͇̞̝̞̦͓̫̯͓̖̗̯̪̖̖̪̮̫̹͓͙̱̠̙̤̪̳̩͍͖͈̖͉̱̭̺̘̤͇͚͉̦̫͈̳͚̲̱̗̱̲̭̻͇̭̭̜̯̫̭̪̱͔̫̰̭̲̘̰͕̰͓̱̝̩͈̻̻͖̟̩̪̘̹̟͉͖̺̹͖̭̦̭͎̱̖͇̥͈̩̫̪̣̳̜̹̝̠̙̫͙̦͎̲̺̮͖̹̭̬̰̙̖̬̦͚͈̘͈̰̹͖̼͖̗̗̬͍̟͇͍̆̓̆͋̏̏̂͌̅͋̉́̽̾̈́̆̎̾̎̿͌̇͛̃́̈̆͌̐̓́͒̀̎̈̆͑̀͑͒̍̎̿́̀̔̏͛̓̊͋̅̎͒̔̀̋͋̑̆̄̈̊́̉̔̕͘̕̕̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̧̢̧̡̨̡̡̧̨̧̧̧̨̛̛͚̱͓̘̳͕̰͉̤̣̻͉̭̞̖͙͚̣͔͕͇̱̱̝̮̻̬̦̲͓̬̤̻͓̗̭̠̹͙͉̺͉̳̥̝̙̠̖͕̖̙̮̫̻̯͚̳̙̯̱͖̤̪̖̹͚͔͕̞͔̪̥̥̠̩̮̞̺̫͔̯͚͇͓̳̭͙̲̟͎̮͕̭͖͔̬͙̮̥̦͎͇̝̗̰̭͙̖͍͚̮̩̩͙̭͈̹̥̮̲͚̝̤̻̻̬͍̦̩̲̺̹̩̻̠͕̬̳̥̯̹̰̥͉̳̻̜̝̰̹̜̳̤̻̦̪̖̗͙̞̠̙̝̯̠̺́̓͒̌̓̈̌̓͋̄̋́͂͌̈́̑͊̊̌̈́̄̅̒̇͌̂̈́̒̀̈́̄̓́͌͆̄̎̽͐̑̿̇͌̃͐͑̃͊̀̈́̎͐̉̽̎̃͋̾̃͂͌̽̇̍̉̅̄͐͐̽̃̇͋̀̚̚̚̚͘͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̶̢̧̧̧̢̨̨̨̧̨̡̢̡̡̡̢̨̧̧̧̧̢̨̨̜͎̳̘̱̪̣̣̼̤͔̝̻̠͕̘̰̼̯͉̖͈̘̫̭̩͉̭̭̞̠͕͓̦̗̥̜̗̰͎̠̮̲̱̥͓̲̮̯̦̼̩̻̺͎̟͚̹̝͎̲̜̜̤̯͍͔̫̳͉͎̖̮̯̰̩̩̫͔͕̤͇͓̗̩̰͍͇̝̭̘̞̪̬͔̞̜̳̙͕̘̰̥̺̭͙̫̪̟͕̩̤̞̬̝͍̞̣̳̝̘̪̥̪̜̘̙͔͚͚̹͈͉̤͉̭͉̲͖̙͇̣̮̬̯̻̥̝͇̻̜͚̙̣͔̻̬̙͙͎̲̦̝͎̺̗̤̻̪̳̗̫̼̠̼͇̜̖̲̠̯̍̍͐͆̿͆̇̏͆̅͐̈́̃̎̓̇͐̍͌̔͑̊̈́̀͋̾͗̑͊̈̓͋̊͛̿̉̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ ̸̢̢̧̨̨̛̛̛͙̪̺̥͎̝̩̱̫̻͇͓̯̥͍̯̦̱͔̭̫̮̭͉̮̙̣̥̙̟͚͉̖̰̜̞͚̜͙̝̟̪͕̩̱̤̱̝̰̻̞̪̉̍͂͋̔͌͊͛̎͗͋̾̑̈́̀̆̒̉̊̔̐͋̓͊̓͑͂̈́̑̇͛́̄́̿͋̉͆̓̃̿̑͊̄̒̈͂̓̄͊͛̀̓̄̿̾̍̍̎͆͋̒͆͊̊̋̂͐͋̐̓͋̋̂̉͂͒͌̃̉̿͌̏͐̍͋̃͛̿̽̉̋̆͂͋͒̒̒̃̐̂̍̎͐͐̋̃͐̓̇͛̾͋̅̀̐͌̄̉͂̿́̿̔̇̃̽̅̌̾̋͛̀͆̈͌̑̀̎̐̈̆͌̽̉̽̽̿͆̌̆̇̊͒̐͑̾͐͑̉͌͑̋͋̍̿̍͊̄̑̅͐̃̓̐̀͂̇̂͂̈͑͋̃̾̕͘͘̚͘͘̚̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅ ̵̧̢̧̨̨̢̧̢̡̧̧̛̛͖̯̩̺̖͉̬̖̥̘̖͈̭̭̹͔̘͖̜̖̯͎̙͉̗̥͓͉̪̳̤̠͔̙̩̺͎͙͙̣̦̪̯̮͖̭̝̻͕̼͓̳͍̯͔̜̦͎͕͍̼̺̟͖̩̭̥̞͇̞̖̜̲̣̈́̍̈́̾͂̔͊̽͆̈́̂̊́̎̽̽̆̑͆́̏͋́̽̈́͑͗̀͋̈́̈́̇̇̀̓̈̈́͗̎͛̌͊͌͐́͐̾́̀̔̾͆͋̾̾̿͌̃̃̆̔͐̍̌̆͌̒̃͆̒̋̔̂̓̒̃͋̅͗̿͊̽͐̋̓̓͆͆̌̉̒̽͊͋̆̽̓͂͒́͂̆̇̒̊̃̆̎̿͋͗͆̇̂̄̍̑̈́͑͂̀͊̎̆͒̊̃̈̐̄̏͋̇͒͆̈̾͒̎̓̋̆͗̅̋͆̐̇̀̃̋̾͋̀̅͌̽̊̔̆̈͋͂̎͆͋͂̋͊̒͐̑̃̋̾̎̊͑̑̊̿͘͘̚͘̚͘̚͘͘̕̕̕̕͘̕̚͘̚͘͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͠ ̷̨̡̡̡̡̢̢̢̛̛̛̭̝̹̮̖̙̮̫̲̰̗̱̺̙͓̣͔͈̟̙̖̗̳̟̯̹͍̤͖͉̭̼̠̼͓̱̠͍͉̳̙̯͇͙̣̫̫͉̜̲͎̖͙̞͇͎̲̰̥̳̗̘̘̳͈̭̹̙̭̭̻͖̪̮̫̠͉͇͚͔̻̱̞͚̖͓͑̓̃̋̏̍͗͆͒̐̊̅̀̒̎̄̔̀̐̈́̋̏́́͌̒͐͒̿͛̍͊̏͆̇̓̂̑͋̃̎͌̑̂̉́̈́͑́̐̄̉̇̐͋͂̂͊͊̊̀͒̂͊̉͗̅͋͌̅̃̾͋̋͋͒̒̾͋͆͐̓̄̅̿̃̇͆͆̊̿̄̀̇͋̀͊̀̾͂̅͆͛̈͂́͊͗̀́̿͐͂̏̎͆̆̏͊̅͊͂̈͋͆͌̆͐͋̒̆͛̇̈̅͌̾͗̐͗̈̍̌̾͒̎̔̇͐̔͐͆̔͗̐̋̑͑̇̔̀͑͌͋͊̊̅̀͂̔͂̐͒̉͐̋͌͑̉͂͋̓̑̃́̄͐̃͊̑͘͘͘̕̕͘̚̕͘͘̕̚͘̚̕̚̚͘͘̚̚͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ ̷̧̨̡̧̨̨̧̨̛̛̛̛̛̛̰̝̼͚͇͙̮̫̹̖̪̞̰̘̗̣͍̻̟̝͔͍͔̙̻͓͔̣̩̭̞̗̻͍͔̘͖͕̦̺̹̤̦͈̗̞͉̼̬̱̠͖̗̞̜̤̦̪̣̬̭̫̭̰͔̭̹͉͎͉͎͉̞̹͎̫̟̟̩̪̳̞̳͙͇̻̳̱͔͇͛̅̌̈̉̉́̽̓̈́̀̈͐̀̂͆̾̀̀̂̽̋̄̊̀̏̈͐̎́̽̄̒̎̾̅̽̈͒̈́̐̊̌́̅̈́͆̉̿͋̽͒̾̋͊̏̂̊̓̈̾͐̋̉͂͋͌̉̒̑͛͐̀̉̎̉͆́͋̉̀̂͂̈͋͂̀̅̓̉̎͆̐̈͑̊̓͋̾̏̀̇͛̊̾̃͛͒̃͂̏̂͗̀̍͂̅̽̑̅̆̔̀̐̃̔̑̾̽̆͗̏̅͒̄́̍͂̆͛̔̌͆̊̒͌̑̑͒͑͆͘̕͘̚̕̕̕̕̕̚̕̕̚͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ ̶̧̧̨̼̳̻͓̱͇͙̼͖̮̟͉̬͕̯͎̠͙̰̬͚͉̹̪̲̬̬̠͕̺̖̯̜͕̩͓͖͉͓̱̙̖̝̫͖͓̗̻͆͌̽̅̾̈́̉̎̄́͊̀̈́̄̉̈͛͆͌̔̊̍̀̂̅̎̓͒̈́͘̕͜͠͝͝ͅ ̵̧̡̡̡̨̨̧̧̢̢̢̢̢̡̢̢̡̢̡̡̛͉̥̙͕̤̜̫̜̖̤̝̣̟̞̠̹̭̺̜̻̪̙̺͚̘̜͖͍̝̻̤̯̜̘̺͙̱̰̪͇̻̠̫̹̮͕͚̯̘͈͖̜͕͕͔͎͍͉͓̺̼̞͇̣̞̯̜͙̺͙̹͕̳͇̪͔̟̦̼̭̮̞̱͎̲̮̪͎̪͈̲̭̹̥̺̥̠̣̟̥̙̰͙̻̰͖̖͓̼̤̺̫̜̻͍̜̩̗̮̜͖̞͍̜̲̲̤͎͚̤͙̜͇͚͎͈̘̙͔͍̠͎̠̳̮̼̤̥̖̫̜̹̳̱̙̹͙̣̙̱̪̺̫͕̭̪̞̳̼͙̝̹̬͑̋̒͐͌͋͊̃͗́́̂̆̇̇͊͊͆́̈́̀̈̀̊͗̏̓̆̐̐̌̉͂͑͑͗̾͒́̎̔̄́̌̒̽̿̀̈́̅̾̈́̄̓͂̍̇̈͊̐͋͌͑͋͒̀̉̏̏͐͗̊̌̽̽͒̒̌̒̓́̊͘͘̚͘͘͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̧̧̡̨̨̡̧̧̢̡̨̧̡̢̨̢̨̨̨̨̧̢̛̛̹̼̻̲̙̟̩͈̰̩͍̤̘̪̭͕̠̫̥̮̜͙̟͉͎̙̻̮͖̲̥̟͎͖̜͚͖͖̱͚̗̞͇͇͙̖̺͔̠͇̞͓͇͖̠̹̥̣̺͉̰͕͔͈̼̞̦̰͓̯͕͕͇̦̖͍͚̹̠̤̭̹̻̙͍̼̼̱̟̝̯͓̫͖̬̤͖̬̱̩͙̲͎̭͖̞̬̣̣͙͚̮̫̞͍̲̘͔͍͎̯̘̖̣͚̠̟͇͇̝̘̥̘̦͈͔͎̙͍͈͚̙̹͇̫̟̱̭͕̤̹͚̟͕̼̥̻̙̩̪͕̞̞̮͇͔͔̜̰̤̰͎̲̩͔̮̮̼̼̝͈͓͈̼͖̳͔̭̻̜͙͓̠͙̘̥̓̂̍̈́̓̐̆̒̆̊̆̀̀̿͑̏̂̅̿̈́̌̉̃̉̓̀̈́̉̂̑̎̄͆̐̄͑̀̓̐̃̍̑̄̑̈̎̆͑͑̿͑̓̅͆̅̔͒́̾̆͗͌̅̇̽̔̑̓͊̍̈͐͂̍͛̆̑́̑̓͒͑͗̇̍̂̆̔̃̀͐̅͑̏͂͐̐͗̉́̂̎̉́͐͗͊̽̒͐̓̏̔̐̅͗͋͊̽̓̕̚͘̚͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̡̡̡̛͍̲͓̥̙̮͕͇̥͈͚̙͚̲̝̯͖̝̥̩̜̬̩̯̲̼̹̺͙̘̝͎̪̳̥̥̣̜͕͔͉̮̝̻̫͙̺̼̭͈̞͕͓͇̤̩̺̫̣̗̤̯̫̼̥̾͂͐̏̏̓̄͗͗̆̾̈́͛̌̿́̽̑̀͂͗͛̎͐͑̾̑͒̑̈̊͛͑̾̿̈͑͂͗͑́̏̐͑̿͑͒͑̾͊̈̋̓̐̈̔͒͐̔̅̅̌̇͗͂̂̆̈͐̋̌͌͋̀̏͒̈̃̍͒̀͊̋̽̏͂̂̓͒͂̚̚̕̕̚͘͘͘͘͠͝͠͠͠͝ͅͅ _

_ _

 

_ Gerard felt himself tense, that was the moment that made all of this go to shit. _

_ ̵̧̡̨̨̧̨̨̡̛͕̫̪̭̻͓̫͔̙͖̩̺̲͕̖̙̬͕͔̖̼̦͔͓͍̙̱̍̀̄̈̏̀͌̓͋̈́͋̍̓̒̕͜͜͠͠ͅ ̵̡̡̧̡̨̧̢̡̡̡̨̢̨̡̨̧̢̡̨̡̛̝̼̭̳̯͇͔͔͚̼͚̠͈̣̯̺͕̥͎̯̠̖̲̮͇̥̱̞̜̠̮̦̼̳̦̩̮͕͔̯̙̪̻̦͍̙̝̗͇̗̤̯̯̞͇̠̭̳̯̺͍̪͖̭̟̙̖͓͙̹̰̘̞̘̣̝̳̲̺̪̖̗̱̞͈̻͚͚̜̖̤̼̖̲̟̫͉̪̱̪̪̝͔̱͇͉͕͇̱͙͕̰̹̭̯̥̬̳͕͙͎̰͖͓͙̻͕̖̞̖͍̞̠̱̟̤͔͚̰̯̤͕̮̳̱͖̳̱̳̞͓̤͉̩̯͔̺̲͇̠̹̹̲͓̘͖̼̭̪̣̯͓̞̗͎͎̣͚̱̻͓̯̪̜̀͌͐͑̑̓̀̽̊̈̍͛̈̿̏̆̔̆͂͛̌̑͊̀̈́́̓͑̾́̎̀͐̃̈́̈́̏̆͒̕͘̚̚͘̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̧̨̧̨̡̡̢̨̨̧̧̧̢̢̢̡̡̨̛̛̲͇͈̪̘̱̟̝͇̰͉̦͎͈̰̖͚̺̟̠̱̬͎̭͍̱͎͈͕͎̙̝̟̫̩̤̮͓͉̦̮̞̮̥̪͖̰̮͙̭͚̠̘͈̗̻͔̗͙̙̯͕͙̲̫̮͍̱̗͇̫̹̼̮̯̣͓̤̭͔̣̝̲̦̯̥̦͓̞̻̜̤̩̠̩͎̰̙̤͔̖̗̟̯̹̬̤̣̗̮̘̦͕̟̦͉̺̘͙͙͕̘̜̞̦̜̩̪̻͚͍͚͇̣͈͉̫̼̹̤̱̲̯̠̦̻̠̬̺̙̹̲͓̮̲̙̼̣͙̘̣̤̦͓̬͇̳̣̞̳̖̺̮͕̘̝̝͛̄͛̒̓͑̔͌͊̈́͛͑̀́̅́̒̆̐͑́̊͛́͛̋̾̈́̄͗̂̊̌̊̀̓͐͗̍̾͆̓̓̓̅̒̂͒̉̎͑̒͑̂͗͂͒̃̎̀̽̾͆̎͆̅̃͋͑͊̆͆̂̿̈̽̇̍̄͂͋̊͐͛̑̾͛̆̌̅́̋͑̒̎̐̃͛̏̽̇̿̔̔̌̈̔̋̽͂̎͂̌̍̎̂̒̀̿͊̔̏̿͛͆͗͋͑̊̎̿̔͑̚̚̕̚̚̕̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̢̢̨̡̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̣̪̯̥̮͎̜̫͈̦̤̟̘͍̘̗͔̠̘̼̮͚̟͉̫̙̺͓̥̳̖̖͓͍̞̟̠͇͓͈̖̓͑̾̌̐͛̔̊̂͒̾̈́̏̓̏̈́̿͌̅̓̌́̄̈́͐̀͆͂̄̇̈́̓͊̿̈̽̋̈́̑͗̀͐͑̓͊͛̏̄̓̽̃͂͆͊̍̓͊̃̊̂̈͗͗̑̂̿̂̍͐̑̏̇̌̔̌̄̉̂̑͂̋͊̏̅̃̈͆̿̐̓̄͗̍̄̎̒͊̇͗͌̃̓͛̉͛́͑͂̒̔̉̔̄̊͒̈̆͛͂̇̊̐͒̋͂͐̅̉́͑̓͒̅͑̎̔̊͛͂̽̐͛͊͊̑̂̾̇̓̑̾̾̈̒̏̽̍̈̿̂̽̃͌͂̊͊͆̚͘͘̚͘̚͘͘͘̚̕͘̕͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅ ̷̡̨̨̢̢̡̧̧̧̢̡̢̧̡̫͍̱̲͈̺͔̗̞͎͉̯̹͇͈͕̩̠̝̣͓͓͚̲̘͕͍͎͎̗̣̗̦̟̪̦͚̯̯͍̮̻̺̜̺͉̯͍̻̜͉͓̦̥̙͙̘͓̠̝̣̤̱̯͔͉̟̱͉͕̲̺͚͉͓̯̖̻̬̩̱̟̼̮̋̒̈́͋̚͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̨̧̢̡̨̡̨̡̧̢̢̢̨̡̢̨̡̢̡̨̧̛̰̙̠̗̱̹̰̳̥̻̯̖̦̼̣̭͉̥̝͈̩̱͈̝̲͇̞̝̞̦͓̫̯͓̖̗̯̪̖̖̪̮̫̹͓͙̱̠̙̤̪̳̩͍͖͈̖͉̱̭̺̘̤͇͚͉̦̫͈̳͚̲̱̗̱̲̭̻͇̭̭̜̯̫̭̪̱͔̫̰̭̲̘̰͕̰͓̱̝̩͈̻̻͖̟̩̪̘̹̟͉͖̺̹͖̭̦̭͎̱̖͇̥͈̩̫̪̣̳̜̹̝̠̙̫͙̦͎̲̺̮͖̹̭̬̰̙̖̬̦͚͈̘͈̰̹͖̼͖̗̗̬͍̟͇͍̆̓̆͋̏̏̂͌̅͋̉́̽̾̈́̆̎̾̎̿͌̇͛̃́̈̆͌̐̓́͒̀̎̈̆͑̀͑͒̍̎̿́̀̔̏͛̓̊͋̅̎͒̔̀̋͋̑̆̄̈̊́̉̔̕͘̕̕̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̧̢̧̡̨̡̡̧̨̧̧̧̨̛̛͚̱͓̘̳͕̰͉̤̣̻͉̭̞̖͙͚̣͔͕͇̱̱̝̮̻̬̦̲͓̬̤̻͓̗̭̠̹͙͉̺͉̳̥̝̙̠̖͕̖̙̮̫̻̯͚̳̙̯̱͖̤̪̖̹͚͔͕̞͔̪̥̥̠̩̮̞̺̫͔̯͚͇͓̳̭͙̲̟͎̮͕̭͖͔̬͙̮̥̦͎͇̝̗̰̭͙̖͍͚̮̩̩͙̭͈̹̥̮̲͚̝̤̻̻̬͍̦̩̲̺̹̩̻̠͕̬̳̥̯̹̰̥͉̳̻̜̝̰̹̜̳̤̻̦̪̖̗͙̞̠̙̝̯̠̺́̓͒̌̓̈̌̓͋̄̋́͂͌̈́̑͊̊̌̈́̄̅̒̇͌̂̈́̒̀̈́̄̓́͌͆̄̎̽͐̑̿̇͌̃͐͑̃͊̀̈́̎͐̉̽̎̃͋̾̃͂͌̽̇̍̉̅̄͐͐̽̃̇͋̀̚̚̚̚͘͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̶̢̧̧̧̢̨̨̨̧̨̡̢̡̡̡̢̨̧̧̧̧̢̨̨̜͎̳̘̱̪̣̣̼̤͔̝̻̠͕̘̰̼̯͉̖͈̘̫̭̩͉̭̭̞̠͕͓̦̗̥̜̗̰͎̠̮̲̱̥͓̲̮̯̦̼̩̻̺͎̟͚̹̝͎̲̜̜̤̯͍͔̫̳͉͎̖̮̯̰̩̩̫͔͕̤͇͓̗̩̰͍͇̝̭̘̞̪̬͔̞̜̳̙͕̘̰̥̺̭͙̫̪̟͕̩̤̞̬̝͍̞̣̳̝̘̪̥̪̜̘̙͔͚͚̹͈͉̤͉̭͉̲͖̙͇̣̮̬̯̻̥̝͇̻̜͚̙̣͔̻̬̙͙͎̲̦̝͎̺̗̤̻̪̳̗̫̼̠̼͇̜̖̲̠̯̍̍͐͆̿͆̇̏͆̅͐̈́̃̎̓̇͐̍͌̔͑̊̈́̀͋̾͗̑͊̈̓͋̊͛̿̉̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ ̸̢̢̧̨̨̛̛̛͙̪̺̥͎̝̩̱̫̻͇͓̯̥͍̯̦̱͔̭̫̮̭͉̮̙̣̥̙̟͚͉̖̰̜̞͚̜͙̝̟̪͕̩̱̤̱̝̰̻̞̪̉̍͂͋̔͌͊͛̎͗͋̾̑̈́̀̆̒̉̊̔̐͋̓͊̓͑͂̈́̑̇͛́̄́̿͋̉͆̓̃̿̑͊̄̒̈͂̓̄͊͛̀̓̄̿̾̍̍̎͆͋̒͆͊̊̋̂͐͋̐̓͋̋̂̉͂͒͌̃̉̿͌̏͐̍͋̃͛̿̽̉̋̆͂͋͒̒̒̃̐̂̍̎͐͐̋̃͐̓̇͛̾͋̅̀̐͌̄̉͂̿́̿̔̇̃̽̅̌̾̋͛̀͆̈͌̑̀̎̐̈̆͌̽̉̽̽̿͆̌̆̇̊͒̐͑̾͐͑̉͌͑̋͋̍̿̍͊̄̑̅͐̃̓̐̀͂̇̂͂̈͑͋̃̾̕͘͘̚͘͘̚̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅ ̵̧̢̧̨̨̢̧̢̡̧̧̛̛͖̯̩̺̖͉̬̖̥̘̖͈̭̭̹͔̘͖̜̖̯͎̙͉̗̥͓͉̪̳̤̠͔̙̩̺͎͙͙̣̦̪̯̮͖̭̝̻͕̼͓̳͍̯͔̜̦͎͕͍̼̺̟͖̩̭̥̞͇̞̖̜̲̣̈́̍̈́̾͂̔͊̽͆̈́̂̊́̎̽̽̆̑͆́̏͋́̽̈́͑͗̀͋̈́̈́̇̇̀̓̈̈́͗̎͛̌͊͌͐́͐̾́̀̔̾͆͋̾̾̿͌̃̃̆̔͐̍̌̆͌̒̃͆̒̋̔̂̓̒̃͋̅͗̿͊̽͐̋̓̓͆͆̌̉̒̽͊͋̆̽̓͂͒́͂̆̇̒̊̃̆̎̿͋͗͆̇̂̄̍̑̈́͑͂̀͊̎̆͒̊̃̈̐̄̏͋̇͒͆̈̾͒̎̓̋̆͗̅̋͆̐̇̀̃̋̾͋̀̅͌̽̊̔̆̈͋͂̎͆͋͂̋͊̒͐̑̃̋̾̎̊͑̑̊̿͘͘̚͘̚͘̚͘͘̕̕̕̕͘̕̚͘̚͘͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͠ ̷̨̡̡̡̡̢̢̢̛̛̛̭̝̹̮̖̙̮̫̲̰̗̱̺̙͓̣͔͈̟̙̖̗̳̟̯̹͍̤͖͉̭̼̠̼͓̱̠͍͉̳̙̯͇͙̣̫̫͉̜̲͎̖͙̞͇͎̲̰̥̳̗̘̘̳͈̭̹̙̭̭̻͖̪̮̫̠͉͇͚͔̻̱̞͚̖͓͑̓̃̋̏̍͗͆͒̐̊̅̀̒̎̄̔̀̐̈́̋̏́́͌̒͐͒̿͛̍͊̏͆̇̓̂̑͋̃̎͌̑̂̉́̈́͑́̐̄̉̇̐͋͂̂͊͊̊̀͒̂͊̉͗̅͋͌̅̃̾͋̋͋͒̒̾͋͆͐̓̄̅̿̃̇͆͆̊̿̄̀̇͋̀͊̀̾͂̅͆͛̈͂́͊͗̀́̿͐͂̏̎͆̆̏͊̅͊͂̈͋͆͌̆͐͋̒̆͛̇̈̅͌̾͗̐͗̈̍̌̾͒̎̔̇͐̔͐͆̔͗̐̋̑͑̇̔̀͑͌͋͊̊̅̀͂̔͂̐͒̉͐̋͌͑̉͂͋̓̑̃́̄͐̃͊̑͘͘͘̕̕͘̚̕͘͘̕̚͘̚̕̚̚͘͘̚̚͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ ̷̧̨̡̧̨̨̧̨̛̛̛̛̛̛̰̝̼͚͇͙̮̫̹̖̪̞̰̘̗̣͍̻̟̝͔͍͔̙̻͓͔̣̩̭̞̗̻͍͔̘͖͕̦̺̹̤̦͈̗̞͉̼̬̱̠͖̗̞̜̤̦̪̣̬̭̫̭̰͔̭̹͉͎͉͎͉̞̹͎̫̟̟̩̪̳̞̳͙͇̻̳̱͔͇͛̅̌̈̉̉́̽̓̈́̀̈͐̀̂͆̾̀̀̂̽̋̄̊̀̏̈͐̎́̽̄̒̎̾̅̽̈͒̈́̐̊̌́̅̈́͆̉̿͋̽͒̾̋͊̏̂̊̓̈̾͐̋̉͂͋͌̉̒̑͛͐̀̉̎̉͆́͋̉̀̂͂̈͋͂̀̅̓̉̎͆̐̈͑̊̓͋̾̏̀̇͛̊̾̃͛͒̃͂̏̂͗̀̍͂̅̽̑̅̆̔̀̐̃̔̑̾̽̆͗̏̅͒̄́̍͂̆͛̔̌͆̊̒͌̑̑͒͑͆͘̕͘̚̕̕̕̕̕̚̕̕̚͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ ̶̧̧̨̼̳̻͓̱͇͙̼͖̮̟͉̬͕̯͎̠͙̰̬͚͉̹̪̲̬̬̠͕̺̖̯̜͕̩͓͖͉͓̱̙̖̝̫͖͓̗̻͆͌̽̅̾̈́̉̎̄́͊̀̈́̄̉̈͛͆͌̔̊̍̀̂̅̎̓͒̈́͘̕͜͠͝͝ͅ ̵̧̡̡̡̨̨̧̧̢̢̢̢̢̡̢̢̡̢̡̡̛͉̥̙͕̤̜̫̜̖̤̝̣̟̞̠̹̭̺̜̻̪̙̺͚̘̜͖͍̝̻̤̯̜̘̺͙̱̰̪͇̻̠̫̹̮͕͚̯̘͈͖̜͕͕͔͎͍͉͓̺̼̞͇̣̞̯̜͙̺͙̹͕̳͇̪͔̟̦̼̭̮̞̱͎̲̮̪͎̪͈̲̭̹̥̺̥̠̣̟̥̙̰͙̻̰͖̖͓̼̤̺̫̜̻͍̜̩̗̮̜͖̞͍̜̲̲̤͎͚̤͙̜͇͚͎͈̘̙͔͍̠͎̠̳̮̼̤̥̖̫̜̹̳̱̙̹͙̣̙̱̪̺̫͕̭̪̞̳̼͙̝̹̬͑̋̒͐͌͋͊̃͗́́̂̆̇̇͊͊͆́̈́̀̈̀̊͗̏̓̆̐̐̌̉͂͑͑͗̾͒́̎̔̄́̌̒̽̿̀̈́̅̾̈́̄̓͂̍̇̈͊̐͋͌͑͋͒̀̉̏̏͐͗̊̌̽̽͒̒̌̒̓́̊͘͘̚͘͘͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̧̧̡̨̨̡̧̧̢̡̨̧̡̢̨̢̨̨̨̨̧̢̛̛̹̼̻̲̙̟̩͈̰̩͍̤̘̪̭͕̠̫̥̮̜͙̟͉͎̙̻̮͖̲̥̟͎͖̜͚͖͖̱͚̗̞͇͇͙̖̺͔̠͇̞͓͇͖̠̹̥̣̺͉̰͕͔͈̼̞̦̰͓̯͕͕͇̦̖͍͚̹̠̤̭̹̻̙͍̼̼̱̟̝̯͓̫͖̬̤͖̬̱̩͙̲͎̭͖̞̬̣̣͙͚̮̫̞͍̲̘͔͍͎̯̘̖̣͚̠̟͇͇̝̘̥̘̦͈͔͎̙͍͈͚̙̹͇̫̟̱̭͕̤̹͚̟͕̼̥̻̙̩̪͕̞̞̮͇͔͔̜̰̤̰͎̲̩͔̮̮̼̼̝͈͓͈̼͖̳͔̭̻̜͙͓̠͙̘̥̓̂̍̈́̓̐̆̒̆̊̆̀̀̿͑̏̂̅̿̈́̌̉̃̉̓̀̈́̉̂̑̎̄͆̐̄͑̀̓̐̃̍̑̄̑̈̎̆͑͑̿͑̓̅͆̅̔͒́̾̆͗͌̅̇̽̔̑̓͊̍̈͐͂̍͛̆̑́̑̓͒͑͗̇̍̂̆̔̃̀͐̅͑̏͂͐̐͗̉́̂̎̉́͐͗͊̽̒͐̓̏̔̐̅͗͋͊̽̓̕̚͘̚͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̡̡̡̛͍̲͓̥̙̮͕͇̥͈͚̙͚̲̝̯͖̝̥̩̜̬̩̯̲̼̹̺͙̘̝͎̪̳̥̥̣̜͕͔͉̮̝̻̫͙̺̼̭͈̞͕͓͇̤̩̺̫̣̗̤̯̫̼̥̾͂͐̏̏̓̄͗͗̆̾̈́͛̌̿́̽̑̀͂͗͛̎͐͑̾̑͒̑̈̊͛͑̾̿̈͑͂͗͑́̏̐͑̿͑͒͑̾͊̈̋̓̐̈̔͒͐̔̅̅̌̇͗͂̂̆̈͐̋̌͌͋̀̏͒̈̃̍͒̀͊̋̽̏͂̂̓͒͂̚̚̕̕̚͘͘͘͘͠͝͠͠͠͝ͅͅ _

_ _

 

_ He had that same douchebag haircut every other RehabRat had bleached and everything. Mr. Iero physically cringed, that hair color with that haircut made the guy look like an actual rat. _

 

_ Then again, he’s one to talk having cycled through multiple shitty haircuts throughout his life. _

 

_ Mr. Iero felt his fingers play with the ends of his long black hair and his heart sank. He didn’t want to lose his totally badass hair. Though it sounded pathetic his hair was all he had left. Then again, Mr. Iero was just a pathetic person in general. Or at least in his own eyes. _

 

_ Other than the horrible situation going on north of the forehead, the guy actually looked pretty badass. And pissed off. He had hazel eyes that were a rainbow of greens, browns, and greys. If those existed anyways,  _

 

**_Yeah, it’s called food poisoning,_ ** _ Mr. Iero snarked to himself.  _

 

**_Poison._ **

 

_ The man pressed himself up against the glass prison cell to get a better look at Mr. Iero, and Mr. Iero squinted in order to get a better look at the man. He had dark eyebrows that were flawless, if flawless eyebrows were a thing.  _

_ ̵̧̡̨̨̧̨̨̡̛͕̫̪̭̻͓̫͔̙͖̩̺̲͕̖̙̬͕͔̖̼̦͔͓͍̙̱̍̀̄̈̏̀͌̓͋̈́͋̍̓̒̕͜͜͠͠ͅ ̵̡̡̧̡̨̧̢̡̡̡̨̢̨̡̨̧̢̡̨̡̛̝̼̭̳̯͇͔͔͚̼͚̠͈̣̯̺͕̥͎̯̠̖̲̮͇̥̱̞̜̠̮̦̼̳̦̩̮͕͔̯̙̪̻̦͍̙̝̗͇̗̤̯̯̞͇̠̭̳̯̺͍̪͖̭̟̙̖͓͙̹̰̘̞̘̣̝̳̲̺̪̖̗̱̞͈̻͚͚̜̖̤̼̖̲̟̫͉̪̱̪̪̝͔̱͇͉͕͇̱͙͕̰̹̭̯̥̬̳͕͙͎̰͖͓͙̻͕̖̞̖͍̞̠̱̟̤͔͚̰̯̤͕̮̳̱͖̳̱̳̞͓̤͉̩̯͔̺̲͇̠̹̹̲͓̘͖̼̭̪̣̯͓̞̗͎͎̣͚̱̻͓̯̪̜̀͌͐͑̑̓̀̽̊̈̍͛̈̿̏̆̔̆͂͛̌̑͊̀̈́́̓͑̾́̎̀͐̃̈́̈́̏̆͒̕͘̚̚͘̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̧̨̧̨̡̡̢̨̨̧̧̧̢̢̢̡̡̨̛̛̲͇͈̪̘̱̟̝͇̰͉̦͎͈̰̖͚̺̟̠̱̬͎̭͍̱͎͈͕͎̙̝̟̫̩̤̮͓͉̦̮̞̮̥̪͖̰̮͙̭͚̠̘͈̗̻͔̗͙̙̯͕͙̲̫̮͍̱̗͇̫̹̼̮̯̣͓̤̭͔̣̝̲̦̯̥̦͓̞̻̜̤̩̠̩͎̰̙̤͔̖̗̟̯̹̬̤̣̗̮̘̦͕̟̦͉̺̘͙͙͕̘̜̞̦̜̩̪̻͚͍͚͇̣͈͉̫̼̹̤̱̲̯̠̦̻̠̬̺̙̹̲͓̮̲̙̼̣͙̘̣̤̦͓̬͇̳̣̞̳̖̺̮͕̘̝̝͛̄͛̒̓͑̔͌͊̈́͛͑̀́̅́̒̆̐͑́̊͛́͛̋̾̈́̄͗̂̊̌̊̀̓͐͗̍̾͆̓̓̓̅̒̂͒̉̎͑̒͑̂͗͂͒̃̎̀̽̾͆̎͆̅̃͋͑͊̆͆̂̿̈̽̇̍̄͂͋̊͐͛̑̾͛̆̌̅́̋͑̒̎̐̃͛̏̽̇̿̔̔̌̈̔̋̽͂̎͂̌̍̎̂̒̀̿͊̔̏̿͛͆͗͋͑̊̎̿̔͑̚̚̕̚̚̕̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̢̢̨̡̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̣̪̯̥̮͎̜̫͈̦̤̟̘͍̘̗͔̠̘̼̮͚̟͉̫̙̺͓̥̳̖̖͓͍̞̟̠͇͓͈̖̓͑̾̌̐͛̔̊̂͒̾̈́̏̓̏̈́̿͌̅̓̌́̄̈́͐̀͆͂̄̇̈́̓͊̿̈̽̋̈́̑͗̀͐͑̓͊͛̏̄̓̽̃͂͆͊̍̓͊̃̊̂̈͗͗̑̂̿̂̍͐̑̏̇̌̔̌̄̉̂̑͂̋͊̏̅̃̈͆̿̐̓̄͗̍̄̎̒͊̇͗͌̃̓͛̉͛́͑͂̒̔̉̔̄̊͒̈̆͛͂̇̊̐͒̋͂͐̅̉́͑̓͒̅͑̎̔̊͛͂̽̐͛͊͊̑̂̾̇̓̑̾̾̈̒̏̽̍̈̿̂̽̃͌͂̊͊͆̚͘͘̚͘̚͘͘͘̚̕͘̕͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅ ̷̡̨̨̢̢̡̧̧̧̢̡̢̧̡̫͍̱̲͈̺͔̗̞͎͉̯̹͇͈͕̩̠̝̣͓͓͚̲̘͕͍͎͎̗̣̗̦̟̪̦͚̯̯͍̮̻̺̜̺͉̯͍̻̜͉͓̦̥̙͙̘͓̠̝̣̤̱̯͔͉̟̱͉͕̲̺͚͉͓̯̖̻̬̩̱̟̼̮̋̒̈́͋̚͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̨̧̢̡̨̡̨̡̧̢̢̢̨̡̢̨̡̢̡̨̧̛̰̙̠̗̱̹̰̳̥̻̯̖̦̼̣̭͉̥̝͈̩̱͈̝̲͇̞̝̞̦͓̫̯͓̖̗̯̪̖̖̪̮̫̹͓͙̱̠̙̤̪̳̩͍͖͈̖͉̱̭̺̘̤͇͚͉̦̫͈̳͚̲̱̗̱̲̭̻͇̭̭̜̯̫̭̪̱͔̫̰̭̲̘̰͕̰͓̱̝̩͈̻̻͖̟̩̪̘̹̟͉͖̺̹͖̭̦̭͎̱̖͇̥͈̩̫̪̣̳̜̹̝̠̙̫͙̦͎̲̺̮͖̹̭̬̰̙̖̬̦͚͈̘͈̰̹͖̼͖̗̗̬͍̟͇͍̆̓̆͋̏̏̂͌̅͋̉́̽̾̈́̆̎̾̎̿͌̇͛̃́̈̆͌̐̓́͒̀̎̈̆͑̀͑͒̍̎̿́̀̔̏͛̓̊͋̅̎͒̔̀̋͋̑̆̄̈̊́̉̔̕͘̕̕̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̧̢̧̡̨̡̡̧̨̧̧̧̨̛̛͚̱͓̘̳͕̰͉̤̣̻͉̭̞̖͙͚̣͔͕͇̱̱̝̮̻̬̦̲͓̬̤̻͓̗̭̠̹͙͉̺͉̳̥̝̙̠̖͕̖̙̮̫̻̯͚̳̙̯̱͖̤̪̖̹͚͔͕̞͔̪̥̥̠̩̮̞̺̫͔̯͚͇͓̳̭͙̲̟͎̮͕̭͖͔̬͙̮̥̦͎͇̝̗̰̭͙̖͍͚̮̩̩͙̭͈̹̥̮̲͚̝̤̻̻̬͍̦̩̲̺̹̩̻̠͕̬̳̥̯̹̰̥͉̳̻̜̝̰̹̜̳̤̻̦̪̖̗͙̞̠̙̝̯̠̺́̓͒̌̓̈̌̓͋̄̋́͂͌̈́̑͊̊̌̈́̄̅̒̇͌̂̈́̒̀̈́̄̓́͌͆̄̎̽͐̑̿̇͌̃͐͑̃͊̀̈́̎͐̉̽̎̃͋̾̃͂͌̽̇̍̉̅̄͐͐̽̃̇͋̀̚̚̚̚͘͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̶̢̧̧̧̢̨̨̨̧̨̡̢̡̡̡̢̨̧̧̧̧̢̨̨̜͎̳̘̱̪̣̣̼̤͔̝̻̠͕̘̰̼̯͉̖͈̘̫̭̩͉̭̭̞̠͕͓̦̗̥̜̗̰͎̠̮̲̱̥͓̲̮̯̦̼̩̻̺͎̟͚̹̝͎̲̜̜̤̯͍͔̫̳͉͎̖̮̯̰̩̩̫͔͕̤͇͓̗̩̰͍͇̝̭̘̞̪̬͔̞̜̳̙͕̘̰̥̺̭͙̫̪̟͕̩̤̞̬̝͍̞̣̳̝̘̪̥̪̜̘̙͔͚͚̹͈͉̤͉̭͉̲͖̙͇̣̮̬̯̻̥̝͇̻̜͚̙̣͔̻̬̙͙͎̲̦̝͎̺̗̤̻̪̳̗̫̼̠̼͇̜̖̲̠̯̍̍͐͆̿͆̇̏͆̅͐̈́̃̎̓̇͐̍͌̔͑̊̈́̀͋̾͗̑͊̈̓͋̊͛̿̉̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ ̸̢̢̧̨̨̛̛̛͙̪̺̥͎̝̩̱̫̻͇͓̯̥͍̯̦̱͔̭̫̮̭͉̮̙̣̥̙̟͚͉̖̰̜̞͚̜͙̝̟̪͕̩̱̤̱̝̰̻̞̪̉̍͂͋̔͌͊͛̎͗͋̾̑̈́̀̆̒̉̊̔̐͋̓͊̓͑͂̈́̑̇͛́̄́̿͋̉͆̓̃̿̑͊̄̒̈͂̓̄͊͛̀̓̄̿̾̍̍̎͆͋̒͆͊̊̋̂͐͋̐̓͋̋̂̉͂͒͌̃̉̿͌̏͐̍͋̃͛̿̽̉̋̆͂͋͒̒̒̃̐̂̍̎͐͐̋̃͐̓̇͛̾͋̅̀̐͌̄̉͂̿́̿̔̇̃̽̅̌̾̋͛̀͆̈͌̑̀̎̐̈̆͌̽̉̽̽̿͆̌̆̇̊͒̐͑̾͐͑̉͌͑̋͋̍̿̍͊̄̑̅͐̃̓̐̀͂̇̂͂̈͑͋̃̾̕͘͘̚͘͘̚̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅ ̵̧̢̧̨̨̢̧̢̡̧̧̛̛͖̯̩̺̖͉̬̖̥̘̖͈̭̭̹͔̘͖̜̖̯͎̙͉̗̥͓͉̪̳̤̠͔̙̩̺͎͙͙̣̦̪̯̮͖̭̝̻͕̼͓̳͍̯͔̜̦͎͕͍̼̺̟͖̩̭̥̞͇̞̖̜̲̣̈́̍̈́̾͂̔͊̽͆̈́̂̊́̎̽̽̆̑͆́̏͋́̽̈́͑͗̀͋̈́̈́̇̇̀̓̈̈́͗̎͛̌͊͌͐́͐̾́̀̔̾͆͋̾̾̿͌̃̃̆̔͐̍̌̆͌̒̃͆̒̋̔̂̓̒̃͋̅͗̿͊̽͐̋̓̓͆͆̌̉̒̽͊͋̆̽̓͂͒́͂̆̇̒̊̃̆̎̿͋͗͆̇̂̄̍̑̈́͑͂̀͊̎̆͒̊̃̈̐̄̏͋̇͒͆̈̾͒̎̓̋̆͗̅̋͆̐̇̀̃̋̾͋̀̅͌̽̊̔̆̈͋͂̎͆͋͂̋͊̒͐̑̃̋̾̎̊͑̑̊̿͘͘̚͘̚͘̚͘͘̕̕̕̕͘̕̚͘̚͘͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͠ ̷̨̡̡̡̡̢̢̢̛̛̛̭̝̹̮̖̙̮̫̲̰̗̱̺̙͓̣͔͈̟̙̖̗̳̟̯̹͍̤͖͉̭̼̠̼͓̱̠͍͉̳̙̯͇͙̣̫̫͉̜̲͎̖͙̞͇͎̲̰̥̳̗̘̘̳͈̭̹̙̭̭̻͖̪̮̫̠͉͇͚͔̻̱̞͚̖͓͑̓̃̋̏̍͗͆͒̐̊̅̀̒̎̄̔̀̐̈́̋̏́́͌̒͐͒̿͛̍͊̏͆̇̓̂̑͋̃̎͌̑̂̉́̈́͑́̐̄̉̇̐͋͂̂͊͊̊̀͒̂͊̉͗̅͋͌̅̃̾͋̋͋͒̒̾͋͆͐̓̄̅̿̃̇͆͆̊̿̄̀̇͋̀͊̀̾͂̅͆͛̈͂́͊͗̀́̿͐͂̏̎͆̆̏͊̅͊͂̈͋͆͌̆͐͋̒̆͛̇̈̅͌̾͗̐͗̈̍̌̾͒̎̔̇͐̔͐͆̔͗̐̋̑͑̇̔̀͑͌͋͊̊̅̀͂̔͂̐͒̉͐̋͌͑̉͂͋̓̑̃́̄͐̃͊̑͘͘͘̕̕͘̚̕͘͘̕̚͘̚̕̚̚͘͘̚̚͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ ̷̧̨̡̧̨̨̧̨̛̛̛̛̛̛̰̝̼͚͇͙̮̫̹̖̪̞̰̘̗̣͍̻̟̝͔͍͔̙̻͓͔̣̩̭̞̗̻͍͔̘͖͕̦̺̹̤̦͈̗̞͉̼̬̱̠͖̗̞̜̤̦̪̣̬̭̫̭̰͔̭̹͉͎͉͎͉̞̹͎̫̟̟̩̪̳̞̳͙͇̻̳̱͔͇͛̅̌̈̉̉́̽̓̈́̀̈͐̀̂͆̾̀̀̂̽̋̄̊̀̏̈͐̎́̽̄̒̎̾̅̽̈͒̈́̐̊̌́̅̈́͆̉̿͋̽͒̾̋͊̏̂̊̓̈̾͐̋̉͂͋͌̉̒̑͛͐̀̉̎̉͆́͋̉̀̂͂̈͋͂̀̅̓̉̎͆̐̈͑̊̓͋̾̏̀̇͛̊̾̃͛͒̃͂̏̂͗̀̍͂̅̽̑̅̆̔̀̐̃̔̑̾̽̆͗̏̅͒̄́̍͂̆͛̔̌͆̊̒͌̑̑͒͑͆͘̕͘̚̕̕̕̕̕̚̕̕̚͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ ̶̧̧̨̼̳̻͓̱͇͙̼͖̮̟͉̬͕̯͎̠͙̰̬͚͉̹̪̲̬̬̠͕̺̖̯̜͕̩͓͖͉͓̱̙̖̝̫͖͓̗̻͆͌̽̅̾̈́̉̎̄́͊̀̈́̄̉̈͛͆͌̔̊̍̀̂̅̎̓͒̈́͘̕͜͠͝͝ͅ ̵̧̡̡̡̨̨̧̧̢̢̢̢̢̡̢̢̡̢̡̡̛͉̥̙͕̤̜̫̜̖̤̝̣̟̞̠̹̭̺̜̻̪̙̺͚̘̜͖͍̝̻̤̯̜̘̺͙̱̰̪͇̻̠̫̹̮͕͚̯̘͈͖̜͕͕͔͎͍͉͓̺̼̞͇̣̞̯̜͙̺͙̹͕̳͇̪͔̟̦̼̭̮̞̱͎̲̮̪͎̪͈̲̭̹̥̺̥̠̣̟̥̙̰͙̻̰͖̖͓̼̤̺̫̜̻͍̜̩̗̮̜͖̞͍̜̲̲̤͎͚̤͙̜͇͚͎͈̘̙͔͍̠͎̠̳̮̼̤̥̖̫̜̹̳̱̙̹͙̣̙̱̪̺̫͕̭̪̞̳̼͙̝̹̬͑̋̒͐͌͋͊̃͗́́̂̆̇̇͊͊͆́̈́̀̈̀̊͗̏̓̆̐̐̌̉͂͑͑͗̾͒́̎̔̄́̌̒̽̿̀̈́̅̾̈́̄̓͂̍̇̈͊̐͋͌͑͋͒̀̉̏̏͐͗̊̌̽̽͒̒̌̒̓́̊͘͘̚͘͘͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̧̧̡̨̨̡̧̧̢̡̨̧̡̢̨̢̨̨̨̨̧̢̛̛̹̼̻̲̙̟̩͈̰̩͍̤̘̪̭͕̠̫̥̮̜͙̟͉͎̙̻̮͖̲̥̟͎͖̜͚͖͖̱͚̗̞͇͇͙̖̺͔̠͇̞͓͇͖̠̹̥̣̺͉̰͕͔͈̼̞̦̰͓̯͕͕͇̦̖͍͚̹̠̤̭̹̻̙͍̼̼̱̟̝̯͓̫͖̬̤͖̬̱̩͙̲͎̭͖̞̬̣̣͙͚̮̫̞͍̲̘͔͍͎̯̘̖̣͚̠̟͇͇̝̘̥̘̦͈͔͎̙͍͈͚̙̹͇̫̟̱̭͕̤̹͚̟͕̼̥̻̙̩̪͕̞̞̮͇͔͔̜̰̤̰͎̲̩͔̮̮̼̼̝͈͓͈̼͖̳͔̭̻̜͙͓̠͙̘̥̓̂̍̈́̓̐̆̒̆̊̆̀̀̿͑̏̂̅̿̈́̌̉̃̉̓̀̈́̉̂̑̎̄͆̐̄͑̀̓̐̃̍̑̄̑̈̎̆͑͑̿͑̓̅͆̅̔͒́̾̆͗͌̅̇̽̔̑̓͊̍̈͐͂̍͛̆̑́̑̓͒͑͗̇̍̂̆̔̃̀͐̅͑̏͂͐̐͗̉́̂̎̉́͐͗͊̽̒͐̓̏̔̐̅͗͋͊̽̓̕̚͘̚͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̡̡̡̛͍̲͓̥̙̮͕͇̥͈͚̙͚̲̝̯͖̝̥̩̜̬̩̯̲̼̹̺͙̘̝͎̪̳̥̥̣̜͕͔͉̮̝̻̫͙̺̼̭͈̞͕͓͇̤̩̺̫̣̗̤̯̫̼̥̾͂͐̏̏̓̄͗͗̆̾̈́͛̌̿́̽̑̀͂͗͛̎͐͑̾̑͒̑̈̊͛͑̾̿̈͑͂͗͑́̏̐͑̿͑͒͑̾͊̈̋̓̐̈̔͒͐̔̅̅̌̇͗͂̂̆̈͐̋̌͌͋̀̏͒̈̃̍͒̀͊̋̽̏͂̂̓͒͂̚̚̕̕̚͘͘͘͘͠͝͠͠͠͝ͅͅ _

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_ "₱ɆⱤ₣Ɇ₵₮, ฿ɆĐ₳ⱫⱫⱠɆĐ, ɆɎɆ฿ⱤØ₩₴," ₳ Ⱨł₲Ⱨ ₥₳ⱠɆ VØł₵Ɇ ₴₳₴₴ɆĐ. ⱧɆ ₩₳₴ ₩Ɇ₳Ɽł₦₲ ₳ ฿ⱠɄɆ ⱠɆ₳₮ⱧɆⱤ J₳₵₭Ɇ₮ ₳₦Đ Ⱨ₳Đ ₴Ø₣₮ Ⱡł₱₴. Ⱨł₴ ₴₭ł₦ ₩₳₴ ₮₳₦₦ɆĐ ฿Ɏ ₮ⱧɆ ĐɆ₴ɆⱤ₮ ₴Ʉ₦. ₲ⱧØɄⱠ'₴ ɆɎɆ₴ ₴ⱠØ₩ⱠɎ ĐⱤł₣₮ɆĐ Ʉ₱ ₮Ø Ⱨł₴ ₴₥łⱤ₭ł₦₲ ₣₳₵Ɇ ₩ł₮Ⱨ ₴₮Ɽ₳₦Đ₴ Ø₣ ฿Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ⱤɆĐ Ⱨ₳łⱤ ₣₳ⱠⱠł₦₲ ØVɆⱤ ł₮. ₮ⱧɆ ₥₳₦ Ɽ₳₦ Ⱨł₴ ₣ł₦₲ɆⱤ₴ ₮ⱧⱤØɄ₲Ⱨ Ⱨł₴ Ⱨ₳łⱤ ⱤɆVɆ₳Ⱡł₦₲ ₱ɆⱤ₣Ɇ₵₮ Ⱨ₳ⱫɆⱠ ɆɎɆ₴. _

_ ̵̧̡̨̨̧̨̨̡̛͕̫̪̭̻͓̫͔̙͖̩̺̲͕̖̙̬͕͔̖̼̦͔͓͍̙̱̍̀̄̈̏̀͌̓͋̈́͋̍̓̒̕͜͜͠͠ͅ ̵̡̡̧̡̨̧̢̡̡̡̨̢̨̡̨̧̢̡̨̡̛̝̼̭̳̯͇͔͔͚̼͚̠͈̣̯̺͕̥͎̯̠̖̲̮͇̥̱̞̜̠̮̦̼̳̦̩̮͕͔̯̙̪̻̦͍̙̝̗͇̗̤̯̯̞͇̠̭̳̯̺͍̪͖̭̟̙̖͓͙̹̰̘̞̘̣̝̳̲̺̪̖̗̱̞͈̻͚͚̜̖̤̼̖̲̟̫͉̪̱̪̪̝͔̱͇͉͕͇̱͙͕̰̹̭̯̥̬̳͕͙͎̰͖͓͙̻͕̖̞̖͍̞̠̱̟̤͔͚̰̯̤͕̮̳̱͖̳̱̳̞͓̤͉̩̯͔̺̲͇̠̹̹̲͓̘͖̼̭̪̣̯͓̞̗͎͎̣͚̱̻͓̯̪̜̀͌͐͑̑̓̀̽̊̈̍͛̈̿̏̆̔̆͂͛̌̑͊̀̈́́̓͑̾́̎̀͐̃̈́̈́̏̆͒̕͘̚̚͘̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̧̨̧̨̡̡̢̨̨̧̧̧̢̢̢̡̡̨̛̛̲͇͈̪̘̱̟̝͇̰͉̦͎͈̰̖͚̺̟̠̱̬͎̭͍̱͎͈͕͎̙̝̟̫̩̤̮͓͉̦̮̞̮̥̪͖̰̮͙̭͚̠̘͈̗̻͔̗͙̙̯͕͙̲̫̮͍̱̗͇̫̹̼̮̯̣͓̤̭͔̣̝̲̦̯̥̦͓̞̻̜̤̩̠̩͎̰̙̤͔̖̗̟̯̹̬̤̣̗̮̘̦͕̟̦͉̺̘͙͙͕̘̜̞̦̜̩̪̻͚͍͚͇̣͈͉̫̼̹̤̱̲̯̠̦̻̠̬̺̙̹̲͓̮̲̙̼̣͙̘̣̤̦͓̬͇̳̣̞̳̖̺̮͕̘̝̝͛̄͛̒̓͑̔͌͊̈́͛͑̀́̅́̒̆̐͑́̊͛́͛̋̾̈́̄͗̂̊̌̊̀̓͐͗̍̾͆̓̓̓̅̒̂͒̉̎͑̒͑̂͗͂͒̃̎̀̽̾͆̎͆̅̃͋͑͊̆͆̂̿̈̽̇̍̄͂͋̊͐͛̑̾͛̆̌̅́̋͑̒̎̐̃͛̏̽̇̿̔̔̌̈̔̋̽͂̎͂̌̍̎̂̒̀̿͊̔̏̿͛͆͗͋͑̊̎̿̔͑̚̚̕̚̚̕̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̢̢̨̡̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̣̪̯̥̮͎̜̫͈̦̤̟̘͍̘̗͔̠̘̼̮͚̟͉̫̙̺͓̥̳̖̖͓͍̞̟̠͇͓͈̖̓͑̾̌̐͛̔̊̂͒̾̈́̏̓̏̈́̿͌̅̓̌́̄̈́͐̀͆͂̄̇̈́̓͊̿̈̽̋̈́̑͗̀͐͑̓͊͛̏̄̓̽̃͂͆͊̍̓͊̃̊̂̈͗͗̑̂̿̂̍͐̑̏̇̌̔̌̄̉̂̑͂̋͊̏̅̃̈͆̿̐̓̄͗̍̄̎̒͊̇͗͌̃̓͛̉͛́͑͂̒̔̉̔̄̊͒̈̆͛͂̇̊̐͒̋͂͐̅̉́͑̓͒̅͑̎̔̊͛͂̽̐͛͊͊̑̂̾̇̓̑̾̾̈̒̏̽̍̈̿̂̽̃͌͂̊͊͆̚͘͘̚͘̚͘͘͘̚̕͘̕͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅ ̷̡̨̨̢̢̡̧̧̧̢̡̢̧̡̫͍̱̲͈̺͔̗̞͎͉̯̹͇͈͕̩̠̝̣͓͓͚̲̘͕͍͎͎̗̣̗̦̟̪̦͚̯̯͍̮̻̺̜̺͉̯͍̻̜͉͓̦̥̙͙̘͓̠̝̣̤̱̯͔͉̟̱͉͕̲̺͚͉͓̯̖̻̬̩̱̟̼̮̋̒̈́͋̚͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̨̧̢̡̨̡̨̡̧̢̢̢̨̡̢̨̡̢̡̨̧̛̰̙̠̗̱̹̰̳̥̻̯̖̦̼̣̭͉̥̝͈̩̱͈̝̲͇̞̝̞̦͓̫̯͓̖̗̯̪̖̖̪̮̫̹͓͙̱̠̙̤̪̳̩͍͖͈̖͉̱̭̺̘̤͇͚͉̦̫͈̳͚̲̱̗̱̲̭̻͇̭̭̜̯̫̭̪̱͔̫̰̭̲̘̰͕̰͓̱̝̩͈̻̻͖̟̩̪̘̹̟͉͖̺̹͖̭̦̭͎̱̖͇̥͈̩̫̪̣̳̜̹̝̠̙̫͙̦͎̲̺̮͖̹̭̬̰̙̖̬̦͚͈̘͈̰̹͖̼͖̗̗̬͍̟͇͍̆̓̆͋̏̏̂͌̅͋̉́̽̾̈́̆̎̾̎̿͌̇͛̃́̈̆͌̐̓́͒̀̎̈̆͑̀͑͒̍̎̿́̀̔̏͛̓̊͋̅̎͒̔̀̋͋̑̆̄̈̊́̉̔̕͘̕̕̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̧̢̧̡̨̡̡̧̨̧̧̧̨̛̛͚̱͓̘̳͕̰͉̤̣̻͉̭̞̖͙͚̣͔͕͇̱̱̝̮̻̬̦̲͓̬̤̻͓̗̭̠̹͙͉̺͉̳̥̝̙̠̖͕̖̙̮̫̻̯͚̳̙̯̱͖̤̪̖̹͚͔͕̞͔̪̥̥̠̩̮̞̺̫͔̯͚͇͓̳̭͙̲̟͎̮͕̭͖͔̬͙̮̥̦͎͇̝̗̰̭͙̖͍͚̮̩̩͙̭͈̹̥̮̲͚̝̤̻̻̬͍̦̩̲̺̹̩̻̠͕̬̳̥̯̹̰̥͉̳̻̜̝̰̹̜̳̤̻̦̪̖̗͙̞̠̙̝̯̠̺́̓͒̌̓̈̌̓͋̄̋́͂͌̈́̑͊̊̌̈́̄̅̒̇͌̂̈́̒̀̈́̄̓́͌͆̄̎̽͐̑̿̇͌̃͐͑̃͊̀̈́̎͐̉̽̎̃͋̾̃͂͌̽̇̍̉̅̄͐͐̽̃̇͋̀̚̚̚̚͘͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̶̢̧̧̧̢̨̨̨̧̨̡̢̡̡̡̢̨̧̧̧̧̢̨̨̜͎̳̘̱̪̣̣̼̤͔̝̻̠͕̘̰̼̯͉̖͈̘̫̭̩͉̭̭̞̠͕͓̦̗̥̜̗̰͎̠̮̲̱̥͓̲̮̯̦̼̩̻̺͎̟͚̹̝͎̲̜̜̤̯͍͔̫̳͉͎̖̮̯̰̩̩̫͔͕̤͇͓̗̩̰͍͇̝̭̘̞̪̬͔̞̜̳̙͕̘̰̥̺̭͙̫̪̟͕̩̤̞̬̝͍̞̣̳̝̘̪̥̪̜̘̙͔͚͚̹͈͉̤͉̭͉̲͖̙͇̣̮̬̯̻̥̝͇̻̜͚̙̣͔̻̬̙͙͎̲̦̝͎̺̗̤̻̪̳̗̫̼̠̼͇̜̖̲̠̯̍̍͐͆̿͆̇̏͆̅͐̈́̃̎̓̇͐̍͌̔͑̊̈́̀͋̾͗̑͊̈̓͋̊͛̿̉̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ ̸̢̢̧̨̨̛̛̛͙̪̺̥͎̝̩̱̫̻͇͓̯̥͍̯̦̱͔̭̫̮̭͉̮̙̣̥̙̟͚͉̖̰̜̞͚̜͙̝̟̪͕̩̱̤̱̝̰̻̞̪̉̍͂͋̔͌͊͛̎͗͋̾̑̈́̀̆̒̉̊̔̐͋̓͊̓͑͂̈́̑̇͛́̄́̿͋̉͆̓̃̿̑͊̄̒̈͂̓̄͊͛̀̓̄̿̾̍̍̎͆͋̒͆͊̊̋̂͐͋̐̓͋̋̂̉͂͒͌̃̉̿͌̏͐̍͋̃͛̿̽̉̋̆͂͋͒̒̒̃̐̂̍̎͐͐̋̃͐̓̇͛̾͋̅̀̐͌̄̉͂̿́̿̔̇̃̽̅̌̾̋͛̀͆̈͌̑̀̎̐̈̆͌̽̉̽̽̿͆̌̆̇̊͒̐͑̾͐͑̉͌͑̋͋̍̿̍͊̄̑̅͐̃̓̐̀͂̇̂͂̈͑͋̃̾̕͘͘̚͘͘̚̕͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅ ̵̧̢̧̨̨̢̧̢̡̧̧̛̛͖̯̩̺̖͉̬̖̥̘̖͈̭̭̹͔̘͖̜̖̯͎̙͉̗̥͓͉̪̳̤̠͔̙̩̺͎͙͙̣̦̪̯̮͖̭̝̻͕̼͓̳͍̯͔̜̦͎͕͍̼̺̟͖̩̭̥̞͇̞̖̜̲̣̈́̍̈́̾͂̔͊̽͆̈́̂̊́̎̽̽̆̑͆́̏͋́̽̈́͑͗̀͋̈́̈́̇̇̀̓̈̈́͗̎͛̌͊͌͐́͐̾́̀̔̾͆͋̾̾̿͌̃̃̆̔͐̍̌̆͌̒̃͆̒̋̔̂̓̒̃͋̅͗̿͊̽͐̋̓̓͆͆̌̉̒̽͊͋̆̽̓͂͒́͂̆̇̒̊̃̆̎̿͋͗͆̇̂̄̍̑̈́͑͂̀͊̎̆͒̊̃̈̐̄̏͋̇͒͆̈̾͒̎̓̋̆͗̅̋͆̐̇̀̃̋̾͋̀̅͌̽̊̔̆̈͋͂̎͆͋͂̋͊̒͐̑̃̋̾̎̊͑̑̊̿͘͘̚͘̚͘̚͘͘̕̕̕̕͘̕̚͘̚͘͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͠ ̷̨̡̡̡̡̢̢̢̛̛̛̭̝̹̮̖̙̮̫̲̰̗̱̺̙͓̣͔͈̟̙̖̗̳̟̯̹͍̤͖͉̭̼̠̼͓̱̠͍͉̳̙̯͇͙̣̫̫͉̜̲͎̖͙̞͇͎̲̰̥̳̗̘̘̳͈̭̹̙̭̭̻͖̪̮̫̠͉͇͚͔̻̱̞͚̖͓͑̓̃̋̏̍͗͆͒̐̊̅̀̒̎̄̔̀̐̈́̋̏́́͌̒͐͒̿͛̍͊̏͆̇̓̂̑͋̃̎͌̑̂̉́̈́͑́̐̄̉̇̐͋͂̂͊͊̊̀͒̂͊̉͗̅͋͌̅̃̾͋̋͋͒̒̾͋͆͐̓̄̅̿̃̇͆͆̊̿̄̀̇͋̀͊̀̾͂̅͆͛̈͂́͊͗̀́̿͐͂̏̎͆̆̏͊̅͊͂̈͋͆͌̆͐͋̒̆͛̇̈̅͌̾͗̐͗̈̍̌̾͒̎̔̇͐̔͐͆̔͗̐̋̑͑̇̔̀͑͌͋͊̊̅̀͂̔͂̐͒̉͐̋͌͑̉͂͋̓̑̃́̄͐̃͊̑͘͘͘̕̕͘̚̕͘͘̕̚͘̚̕̚̚͘͘̚̚͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ ̷̧̨̡̧̨̨̧̨̛̛̛̛̛̛̰̝̼͚͇͙̮̫̹̖̪̞̰̘̗̣͍̻̟̝͔͍͔̙̻͓͔̣̩̭̞̗̻͍͔̘͖͕̦̺̹̤̦͈̗̞͉̼̬̱̠͖̗̞̜̤̦̪̣̬̭̫̭̰͔̭̹͉͎͉͎͉̞̹͎̫̟̟̩̪̳̞̳͙͇̻̳̱͔͇͛̅̌̈̉̉́̽̓̈́̀̈͐̀̂͆̾̀̀̂̽̋̄̊̀̏̈͐̎́̽̄̒̎̾̅̽̈͒̈́̐̊̌́̅̈́͆̉̿͋̽͒̾̋͊̏̂̊̓̈̾͐̋̉͂͋͌̉̒̑͛͐̀̉̎̉͆́͋̉̀̂͂̈͋͂̀̅̓̉̎͆̐̈͑̊̓͋̾̏̀̇͛̊̾̃͛͒̃͂̏̂͗̀̍͂̅̽̑̅̆̔̀̐̃̔̑̾̽̆͗̏̅͒̄́̍͂̆͛̔̌͆̊̒͌̑̑͒͑͆͘̕͘̚̕̕̕̕̕̚̕̕̚͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͝͠ͅͅ ̶̧̧̨̼̳̻͓̱͇͙̼͖̮̟͉̬͕̯͎̠͙̰̬͚͉̹̪̲̬̬̠͕̺̖̯̜͕̩͓͖͉͓̱̙̖̝̫͖͓̗̻͆͌̽̅̾̈́̉̎̄́͊̀̈́̄̉̈͛͆͌̔̊̍̀̂̅̎̓͒̈́͘̕͜͠͝͝ͅ ̵̧̡̡̡̨̨̧̧̢̢̢̢̢̡̢̢̡̢̡̡̛͉̥̙͕̤̜̫̜̖̤̝̣̟̞̠̹̭̺̜̻̪̙̺͚̘̜͖͍̝̻̤̯̜̘̺͙̱̰̪͇̻̠̫̹̮͕͚̯̘͈͖̜͕͕͔͎͍͉͓̺̼̞͇̣̞̯̜͙̺͙̹͕̳͇̪͔̟̦̼̭̮̞̱͎̲̮̪͎̪͈̲̭̹̥̺̥̠̣̟̥̙̰͙̻̰͖̖͓̼̤̺̫̜̻͍̜̩̗̮̜͖̞͍̜̲̲̤͎͚̤͙̜͇͚͎͈̘̙͔͍̠͎̠̳̮̼̤̥̖̫̜̹̳̱̙̹͙̣̙̱̪̺̫͕̭̪̞̳̼͙̝̹̬͑̋̒͐͌͋͊̃͗́́̂̆̇̇͊͊͆́̈́̀̈̀̊͗̏̓̆̐̐̌̉͂͑͑͗̾͒́̎̔̄́̌̒̽̿̀̈́̅̾̈́̄̓͂̍̇̈͊̐͋͌͑͋͒̀̉̏̏͐͗̊̌̽̽͒̒̌̒̓́̊͘͘̚͘͘͘̚͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̧̧̡̨̨̡̧̧̢̡̨̧̡̢̨̢̨̨̨̨̧̢̛̛̹̼̻̲̙̟̩͈̰̩͍̤̘̪̭͕̠̫̥̮̜͙̟͉͎̙̻̮͖̲̥̟͎͖̜͚͖͖̱͚̗̞͇͇͙̖̺͔̠͇̞͓͇͖̠̹̥̣̺͉̰͕͔͈̼̞̦̰͓̯͕͕͇̦̖͍͚̹̠̤̭̹̻̙͍̼̼̱̟̝̯͓̫͖̬̤͖̬̱̩͙̲͎̭͖̞̬̣̣͙͚̮̫̞͍̲̘͔͍͎̯̘̖̣͚̠̟͇͇̝̘̥̘̦͈͔͎̙͍͈͚̙̹͇̫̟̱̭͕̤̹͚̟͕̼̥̻̙̩̪͕̞̞̮͇͔͔̜̰̤̰͎̲̩͔̮̮̼̼̝͈͓͈̼͖̳͔̭̻̜͙͓̠͙̘̥̓̂̍̈́̓̐̆̒̆̊̆̀̀̿͑̏̂̅̿̈́̌̉̃̉̓̀̈́̉̂̑̎̄͆̐̄͑̀̓̐̃̍̑̄̑̈̎̆͑͑̿͑̓̅͆̅̔͒́̾̆͗͌̅̇̽̔̑̓͊̍̈͐͂̍͛̆̑́̑̓͒͑͗̇̍̂̆̔̃̀͐̅͑̏͂͐̐͗̉́̂̎̉́͐͗͊̽̒͐̓̏̔̐̅͗͋͊̽̓̕̚͘̚͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̡̡̡̛͍̲͓̥̙̮͕͇̥͈͚̙͚̲̝̯͖̝̥̩̜̬̩̯̲̼̹̺͙̘̝͎̪̳̥̥̣̜͕͔͉̮̝̻̫͙̺̼̭͈̞͕͓͇̤̩̺̫̣̗̤̯̫̼̥̾͂͐̏̏̓̄͗͗̆̾̈́͛̌̿́̽̑̀͂͗͛̎͐͑̾̑͒̑̈̊͛͑̾̿̈͑͂͗͑́̏̐͑̿͑͒͑̾͊̈̋̓̐̈̔͒͐̔̅̅̌̇͗͂̂̆̈͐̋̌͌͋̀̏͒̈̃̍͒̀͊̋̽̏͂̂̓͒͂̚̚̕̕̚͘͘͘͘͠͝͠͠͠͝ͅͅ _

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_ Mr. Iero felt a knife lodge itself into his heart as he staggered back. His eyes widened as he felt his limbs begin to convulse from shock, but this time it wasn’t electric. He could see the other man--- _

 

 

_ ₱                   Ø       ł   ₴ Ø             ₦ _

 

 

_ Was reacting just as badly. Ghoul saw W̵̧̧̧̨̢̧̢̡̨̧̡̡̨̜̫͖̥̗͓̲̥͕̤͍̟̙͉̗͇͎̮̹͔͙̻̥̖͈̣̹̠͔͓̠͉̬̱̲͇̣̤̣̠̳͍̖͕̰̳̩̟̫̟̲͈̮̭̱̝̰̰̦̘̠̫̝̻̬͎̤̤͇̱̙͈̼͉̙̠͎̱̯͔̼̳͔̟̽̒͂̅͒̽͒̏͋̊̈́̽̄̾̽͊̄͋̾̅̈͊̀̌͆̚̕͘͜͜͜͝ͅͅͅ ̷̧̨̨̛̩͓̘̯͙̻̙̯̰͇̭̗́̓̅̍̐́͒̎̀̉̉̍̃̇̂̈́̆̊̓̔̀͊̋̉̆̈́̓̍̄͗̆͌́͐̈́̑͒̓̐̍̓͆̄̆̎͌̌̈̇͂͌̅̊̈͆̅̋̆̆̔͌͂̐́̾̈̑̽̏̂̊͋͑̽̂̄͋̀́̔͗͒͐̍̐̐̊̓͂̓̇̕͘͘̕͘͘͘̚̚͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͝H̴̡̢̨̧̧̧̢̛̛̛̛̛͓̩͖͚̼̠͍̹̗̣̫̯̬̖̗̖̠̮̠̥̻̲͓̹̺̰̗͓͈̟͓̤̮̰̻̦̲̤̜͎̼͓͇͓̮̦͙̰̝̋̾̓̋͑̽̽̓̏͐̇̀̏̎̌̊̅͊̈́͊̏͊̈́͑̏͐̔͌͊̽̈́͐̍͊́̉̎̌͌̂͆̌́̔́͂̒͛͑̆̽̀̈͌̈̽͑̈́̊͐̐͌̑̑̉̈͋̉̎̀͑̌̉̅͊̿̂̾͋͛̆̿̿͆͂͆̏̇̽̋̽͊̾̎̋͆̈̽͛̎̽̆̔̐̋̓͐̂̀̏̏̑̾͋͑̆̿̾̓͋̌͐͑̌̒͆̀̊̊̆́͑͌͑͆̄̾̐̽̉͗̒̍͋̏̀̉͒͊̆͐͊͑͗̕͘̚̚͘͘̕͘̚̕̕̕̕̚̕͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅ ̴̡̧̡̢̨̢̨̧̧̨̡̨̡̢̡̧̛͕̻͖̗͚̠͔͍̤̖̟͇͇͉͉̹̫͇̠͈͎͕͇̩͖̺̻̺̣̳̦̼͎̘̥͇͉͉̘͈̺͖͕̞͎̻͖͚̩̝͇̤̻̞̯͓̣͖͔̱͓̘͔͈̠̣̣̼̙͙̦̲̜̠̘̠̹̘͇̻͕̬̻̗̫͕̯͓̰̜̻̞̳͔͓̹̖̺̫͍̭̮͉͚͙̯͍̲̝͕̗̺̪̰̗̣͕̭͈͉͈̯̫̲̣̗̮̜̺́͊͌̊̾̌͊̋̃͗͆͑̑̄̃̓͂͌̌͑͋̅̈́̄̇̒͒̕̕̕ͅͅͅͅ!̶̡̨̨̢̢̨̧̡̨̢̡̡̛̝̜͖̺̠͕͉̗̫͉͕͍̦̤̝͓̥̞͍̦͍͈͙͔̹̭͈̥̘͔̳̗̪͕͚̺̤̲̟̳̝̤̺̹̥̦̤̲̩̝͈̝̟̟͇͉̻̦̩͉̩͈͓̦͕̪͔̟̘͉͔͈̭̘̹̤̞̯̼̳̮̰͕̦̺̻͓͙̲̹͚̙͈̆̊̾́̃̌́̑̊̏̾̈̏͊͑̂͗̒̈́̂̈́̉͐͒͆͂̓͌͆̈́̍̀̎̌̋̑̿͆̿̓̃̿̉̆͊̒̿̇̏̏͑̒̔͑́͂͒̾̓̃̈͒͂̾̐̂͑̆̚͘̚̚͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝ͅ ̶̨̢̢̢̢̡̡̡̢̢̧̢̧̨̡̢̢̡̡̛̛̛̛̛̼̳̪̟̮̯͎̙̙̦̖͇͍̬͔͎̜̱̬̟̫̠̹̗̣̟̪̫̺͙̟͉͇͕̖̰̺͓̦̝̙̲̩̞̜̗͙̜̗̰͔͔͚̤̥̦̘̝͎͙̟̣̖̩̹̭̱̝̠͈̤̫̟̘͉͚̻͚̮̭͔͙͍̝̭̩̞̫͙̣͎̩̠̙̥̪̦̘̼̮̯̦͖͕͓͖̞͚̦̭̫̪̳̘͙̟̗̮̺̰̙͎̤̜͍̰̙̞͖̟̺͈͚͇̗͔͙̮͖͙̭̱̺͕̗̗̭̪͔͎̤̩̹̻̼͚̻̘̝̫̲̠̪̘̤̭͖͖̜̩̦̦͈̫̤̹̮͎͎͉̮͔͇̼͙͈̼͈̠͔̖̣͖̭̪͇̘͔̥̠̬̥̩͎̤̝̞͖̣͚̓́̎́̍̓̒̃͐̎̅̌͋̽́̂͗̍̈́̍͐͑̐̌̀͐̒̑́̅͂̍̈́͋̎̍̒̈̌̃͐͗̇̋̈͗́͂̑̔̽͐͒̂̌̋̋͐͂̆̒̋̓͗͐͐͛̓͗̅̅͛͒͐̋̿̒̋͂̇̋̅̒͌̅̃̃̄͂́̏͆͒̍͗̀̄̒͌̓͊̄̎̄̏̋̉̉̾̓̀̉̎͘̕̚̚̚̚̕̚͘̕̚̚̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅT̷̡̧̢̢̨̢̢̨̢̧̡̡̧̢̧̡̡̨̨̧͇͎̺͍̱͚̯̬͚̱̤̺̙͉̣̬̱̣͖͓̗̝͇̮̝͉̟̲̗̺̦̘̜̹̳͎̰͎̮̘̭͉̪̤̣̜͕̘̘̖̦̪͔̱̣͖̫̳͎̻͚̙̱͖̘̟̭̥͍̤͇̖͇͎̣̞͓͇͈͚̻̯̻̱̠̪̯̤͖̝̗̼̣̮͇͈͙̻͎̝̰̜̜͓̘̦͉̜̜͇̺̳̭̲͙̗̼̭̣͇̳̞̣̳͚̲̤͓̪̹̥̖̭͕̬̬͎̲̬͚̗̩͚͍̺͕͍͖̼̭̫͉̯̣̖̣̞̺̯̗͍̰͍̝̦̩̻͇̪̱̮̻̳̤̤̮͚̖̼͇̳͚̪̺̰̻̱̯̞͓͉͓̬̝̈̇̋̇̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̢̡̡̢̢̡̨̨̡̡̨̢̡̨̡̡̡̛͖̗͚̮̘̞̮̖̫͚͔̭̯̭̗̰͓͕̳̫̺̖̳̮̝͇̺̬̮͍̭͈͔̖̲̯̣̭̠͚̠͙͍̞͈̠͎͎̦͈̹̱̯̤̘̮̖̗̗͇̫͇͔̣̼̱̗͖͈̳͙̜̭̭̜̭͎̬̖̤̳͕͕͖̗͔̪̣̝̘̜͕̳͙̹͚͔̗͓̭͖̦̭͈͈̼̱̖̰̖̟̳̮̠͎͈̦͇̦͔̰̣̠̯̩̱͇̙͇̞̱̪͍͖͓͔̹̹͚͈̱̹͍̦̪̯̰̪͓̫̗̘̞̯̬͉̝̳̠͚̯̺̮̟͌͊̽͂̆͂͂̿͆̃̌̈́̎͒͂̃͑͂͌͋̓̑̈́͐̇̽̓̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅĘ̸̨̡̡̧̡̨̡̧̡̨̧̡̡̨̡̡̡̢̡̡̡̨̡̡̨̧̢̻̳̞̳͙͇̭̲̟̱̯͎̝̙͈̫͔̺̳̭͉̳̗͉̭̝̲̥̟̳͖̤̲̗̟͎̰͉̪̻͖̦͉̬͙͍̯̼̩̪̥̗̮͎̟͙͇̰̩̦̘̺͎̖͍͖̱̣͚̼͖͇͈̘̼̩̙̲̭͔̲͖̥̣̣̗̙̺̳̠̯͓͍̘̺̝̜͈͍͓͕̞̹͈͚͔͎̞̗͎͇̜̞̭̳͖̝̫̲̺̖͔̟̙̣̺̣̩̜̺̱̦̘͎̤̖͉̗̭͙̞̙͔̱̼͈̪̪̞̖̹̤͉̱̗͈̻͔̳͓͈̟̖͔͖̮͎͙̮̱̠̫͖̹͔͖̘̯̘͎̤̘͔̟͍̥͎̲͕̜̹̱̥̲̼̝̭̘̲̪͙̠̘͍͓̮̱̤͍͙̝̥̲͉̥̻͍̮̟̘̮̏͌̅̄̿̈́͋̅̔̒͂̉̇̓̈̄̆͆́͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅ ̴̢̢̢̢̢̢̧̢̧̧̢̧̡̧̫̹̫̺̹̜̟͍̫̲̜̥͔̜̩̗̦͓͙̘̼̲̝̳͎͓̦̱͖̰͓͖̮̮̞̻̯̟̰̠̥̯̙̗͚̹͖̞͙̥̦̙̖̞̳̩͔̙̳͓͇̱̭̝͔̱͍̪̻̣̘͍̩̤̜͍͎̟̬̝̝̖̪̘͉͕͈̗̣̗͇̬̭̱̰̘̭̟͍̯̝̬͔̪͚͍̗̖̖̺̼̙̟̰̙͈̹̻̼̦̅̽͜͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅS̸̢̨̨̛̛̛̛̛͎͖͙̣̮̜̭̻͔̖̜̟͓͈̲̭̻̯̣̬̯̣̣͓͔̜̺̹̻̪͇̈́̔́̈́̄̆̽̅̍͗̇̈́̒͊́̈́̈̆̓̍̀͗̉͑̎͊͛̈̏̋͗̈́͗͗̐͆̓̀͆̄̒̈́͒̋̑̌̏͐͂̽̋̎̽̐͑̾̎͋͐̓͌͗̇͊̆͂̇̒͌̃̋͂́̔́͆͑͆̐͒̀̽̇̔͛́͗͊̇̓̊̉̊̇̈̄͂͆̏͋̒͌͑̈̏̆̐̾̑̾͂̔̽̔̀̎͂̏͊̏͂̑͒̾̃̅̔͌̊̀͑́̐̊̋̉̑̅̔̆͛͑͋͊̓̔̒̐̿̀͊̏̍͋̀͋͐͋̓̉́̒̀̀͊̎̎̔̂̊̏̂̿̇̑͋̚͘͘̕͘̕̚̕̚͘͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͝Ṫ̷̨̡̡̢̨̨̡̧̢̢̡̡̧̧̡̡̧̨̢̢̡̨̧̧̡̢̨̰̙͓̱̙͈̥̥̥͍̖̼̤͔̭͕̲̼̟͓̝̞̤̹͕̭̝͈̳̦͙̙̭̤̦̪̟̹͍̼̖͕͕̺͖̜͕̜͓̠̭̣̮͓̮̺͎̝̮͉͉̦͙̮̩̙̥̲̼̦̼͚̻̻͚̗͇͈͓̹̞͙̺̮͙̮̠͓̹̞͉̮͍̺͕͕̺̪̫͖̫̟̫̻̞̼͍͎̭̬̩̩̻͔̻̳̱̲͍̰̦̤̻͎̩͈͕̟̝̘͖͔̮͎͖̘̻̰̹̲͎̪̫͈̣̥̩͍̝̬̝͔̞͉̳̼̦̙̭͙̲̺̫̘̻̘̹͍̲̹̖͖͇͎̯̬͖̩̱̩͎̹̟̦̪̹̖͓͙͖̭̯̬̝̘̺̠̖̹͈͎̱̞̂̃̋̾̿͛̋̑̀̍̍̍͌͂̆̃̎̆̒̈͛̄͑̑͒̈́̇͂͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅͅ ̴̨̧̨̮̹͙̼̤̻̻̜̥̤͍̞̝̻̻̪̪̩͙̖͖̗̠̟̭͕̼̯͉͎̲͇̙̤̲͖͉̲͓͔̺̤̬͙̣̭̯̻̬̮̪͎̳̮̤̮͎̣̯͙̠͎̺̲͑̐̅͆͗̈́̿͒͌̋͒̔̋͗̂̌͗̀̀̏̎̏͌̾̿̐̏̄͛̂́̒̑̉̆̿̏͊̈́̋̀̓̃͗̒̐̕͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅ ̴̢̡̢̡̧̡̧̢̢̧̨̛̛̛̱̬̗͕͓̩̭͔͙͓͙͉̯͓͈̹̲̙͇̞̘͙̖͕̥̬̠̝͓̘̣͈̲̟̣̺̙͚̩̲̞̣̱̯̫̻̘̪͖͚͉̙͈͓̜̦̖̞̼͉̯͇̳̠̫̦̩̰̱̘̮̼͍̹̺͖̻̬̰̣̮̪͙̘̰͖̗̺͕̥͔̙͍̼͇̰͓̩̝̖̫̠̭̰͕̜̩̜̰̝͖̱͎̤̦͇̪͖͚̦̬͔̖̼̭͖̪̰̲͙͎̭̦̻̜͕̣͎̠̱̰͎̤̓̆̐̔̾͐͐̓̄̇̇̏͂̓̈́́͊͊̽̿̋̀̃̓̿̆̀͂̈̄͑̄̇͐̑̀̂́̇͊͂̑̿͒̂̈́̈́̈́̄͊̂͗͋͛̂͛̂̇̿͆̿̓̍͐̄͛̾͌̉̋́͗̌̒̆͌͌̓͗͗̈̒͒͋͐̉̍̉̅̈͘̚̚͘̕̕͘̚͘͘͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̨̢̧̡̢̨̧̨̢̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛͍̬̙̝̺͔̞͉̫̝͔̰͎̙̥̪͚̭̖̠̩͉̤͖͚̯͇͎̣̹̩̘͓̹̥̳̲͇͖̝̭͇̼̗̪̣̙̖̯̰̞̲̖̝̜͕̗̼̰͎̭͓̞̣̩̺̪̭͕̠͇̤̹̮̫͍̗̩̤̬͕̯͕̬͖̗̮̩̝̩̬̖͈̤̘̗̺̣̦̪͕͈̮̱̭̦͚̥͖͔̹̗̖͍͇̣̬͇̠̮̯̹̹͚̘͙̖̼̼̭͔̣͚̩̼͇̻̺̻̟̠̺̬̭̦̫̙̖̪̪͕̖̬͙̜̓͗͒͑̓̇̈́̄̾́̿̓̑̂͐̀͐̾̔͗̄̑̇̈̈́̒̇̇̈́́͐̎̑͂͗̽̀̋̏̌͒̓͑̉̅͛̐͋̏̄̂̄̿̀̾͒̏́̋͋̔̃̍̍͌͂́̽̿̿͛̃̄͒̆͐͒̑͆̔̓͊̆͊͒͂̓̄̋͂̂̇̈̇͊͒̐̅̒̇̇͒̆́̿͗͌̏̂̄̆̃̂̌̎̓̏̅̒̈͋̚̚͘̕̚̕̕͘̚̕̕̕̚̚̕̚̕̚̚̚̚̕͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅ ̴̧̧̢̢̢̡̢̧̧̡̫̫̮̣̮̼̫͓̮̖̻͉̰̤͉͈̫̩̗̞͔̳̬̭̥̝̙͉̹̘̹̺̗̭͚͎̦̤̤̮̥̠̙̰̬̘̜̝̳̤̲̗̩̞̬̦͎̞̯͚̥̥̲̘̖̘̞͖͓̪̫͔͔͓̙͖̹͙̺̫͓͈̝͈̻̩̹̄̍̈́̄̓̓̐̏̋̕͜͜ͅͅͅ ̴̨̧̨̡̛̛̻̻̘̗͎̬̠͓̘̬̳̥̭̫͔͔͔̘̙̬͕̭̩͔͖͎̺̤͙̭̤̙̦̝̖̟̠̖̭̲̼̙͇̜̟̜̜̪̲̦͙̺͚͙̝̺̩̠̙̞̲͈̦͓͈͙̟͒̾̂̉̈́̈̐͛̐͊̓̈́̉̄̒̈̐̇̋̾͑́̃̈̎̅̎͋͊̽͆͛̐̂͊̇̎̆̐̉͌͊͋͛̿̂̈́͒̔͊̃͛̒̄͛̾̊̽̔͂͂̀͛̐͐͒̑͒̾͐̀͂͛̏̆̇̿̅̋̓͂̒͊͊͌̔̄͌̊̓̊̔̃͛̌̃͂̀̏͛̑́̎͋̽̓̾̅̽̄̉̔̒̓́͑̓̃̂̐̑̌̌̊͂̓͂̅̊̒̊̓̂̅̑͒͗̆̋͐͒̀͑̑͛̏̄̏̃̏̄̾͛̄̒̆̆̉͆͌̿̓̊͑͆͑̐͑͆͛͆͆͌͌̿̾̆̒̽̇̊͊̑͂̽͛͛͊̀̓͘̕̚̕̕̚̚͘̚̕͘̕̚̕̚͠͠͝͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅ ̶̨̧̢̧̡̡̧̨̨̡̨̡̨̡̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̻͚̻͓̳̮̯͚͇̙͔̼̰̤͈͎̙͙̭͉̭̘̻͔͔͖̮̜͖̹̦͎͉̙̝̖̙̻͙͎̪͕̣͎͍̟̘͈͉̣̺̰̥͓̖̹̠̰̫̥͇̼̪͈͍͚̺̺̲̖͎͕̰͖̺̝̟̣͔̰̣̟̩͍̰̺͎̪̥̙̫͚̤̖͍̯͔̗͈̼͖̦͍̪̘̙̫̞̬̮̤̦͚̣̹̠̱̩̱̹̮͎̙̦̭̰̭̯̱̞̤̠̰̱̯̜̮͓̘̖̱̜͎̘͓̺̯̠̦̤̋͋̆͒̔̈́̅̃͛̈́̊́̇̋̿̋̑̏͋̆̈́̂͌̈́̃̈̄̊͆̔̈́̓͑̊́̔̈̀̂̀͐̿͛͒̃͋̀̑͂̃̈͌̂̇͊͗̓͋̿̌̿̀̈̄͌͒͊͛̿̉͌̍̓́̑͋͛̒̑̑͗̎̆̃̆̂̆̃̐̇̄͌̊̈̋͐̽̉͋͊͛̀̑́̀̄͊̒͆̌̂̇͌̎͒͊̾͗͋͒̊͛͂͋̅͆͊̽͛̌̑͒̇̀̋̐̂̇̅̊̎̉͋̾̾͑͂͒̌̅̀̊̃͐͂͒͑̒̂̏̍͑̍̎̏̈͋̉̈͑̾̐̓̈̐̑̿͒̆̿̓͐͌͋͂͑͌̅̒͐͘̕̚̕͘͘̚̚͘̕̕͘̕͘͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͠͝͠͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̧̛̛̛͔͕̯̗̙̖̥̣͎͕͔͈̭̮͍̲̥̘͌͌͆͐̅͊́́͒͛̏͑̍̅̋̔̔̆̋̌̀̏͆͛͛͂̀͗̏͛̈̃̇̑͆̽̈́͆̾̂̓̎̔̆̔́̆̄͊̓̅̑́͊͒͌͂́̈̈̄̆̊͆͆͐̌͛̒͑̏̋̽͊͗̇̋̾̍̌̆̊̒̓̽̇̔̋̍͊͑͋͋̂̏̌͋́͊̋͆̇̐̅̉̊͌͊͌͂͒̐̇̂̌́̄͊̍̔́̆̓̇̒͑͋͆̅̇́̔̿͆́̂̽̇͑̎̔̏͒̓̄̋̋̍̆̉̄͗̅͂̃́̇̋̾̍̐̋̉̕̕͘̕̚̕̕͘͘͘̚͘̕͝͝͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͝ ̶̧̨̢̨̢̧̡̨̨̧̛̛̛̛̳͈̮̖̲̝̳̰̙̥͈͙͕̗̤̬͙͔̪̗͍̦̗̳͇̖̭̹̪͓͕̦̫͎̟̖̫̣͖̤̥͚̙̩̝͕̙̹̥̖̫͉̗̘̟͖̗̜̩̮̦̼̮̬͈͖͈̬͍̱̰̻̬̖̩̬͔̅̉̑́͗̏͛͑̐͒̏̿̿̾̀́͋̑̎̒̓͆̔̑͂̈́͊́̽̽͌̿̿͑̋̍͗͊̈́͋̽͛̏̌̆͋̓̊̎̿̽̓͋͛̀̔̍̀͛̆͛̑̌́̄͐̎̂̂̂̈̉͛̒̎̽̊͋͆̄͛͌̐̈̂̌͊̇̏̒̂̾͊̑̀̇́̊̇͌̽̈̔̌͛̄̆̀͐͌̽̑͊̇͋̒͛͋͆̒̋̽̀̾̋͌̽̃̅͆̓̍̌̌͋̋̒͂͂̃͋͂́̽̇̎͒̑͌̈̔̋̿͐̌͆̿͑̊͐̊͑̇̉͆̀͘̚̚̚̚͘͘̚͘̚̕̚̚͜͜͜͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅÂ̴̡̨̡̧̡̧̧̢̡̡̢̨̨̢̡̨̨̢̛̙̳̰̲̜̣̺̭͎͔͕̗̺̳͈̬̤̻̬̘̮͓̮͇͎̩̭̯̻̫̱̼̳̝̞̭͖̟͍͈̱͉̝̼̭̰̙̣͍͕͎̞̦͙͚͕̜̖͎̟͔̯̤͕̤̤͓̲͖͉̟̘̯̫̮̩͓̞͍͓̣͉̣̩͇̫̬̠̙̦̝̼̟̤͓̠̣͉̺͚̟͇̬͚̜̙̯͖̫̮̣͇̗̻̟̱̠̤͔̫̹̯̯̠͕̲̣̠͈͕͓̪̘̺̟͉̠̮͉͉̩̦̺̘̗͚̤̥̟͍͔͉̺̣̠̦͙̯̘̰̑̓̿̉͆̏̑̐̊̂̀̔̏͊̿̀͐̐͆̚̕̕͜͜͝ͅͅͅ ̴̡̧̧̨̨̢̢̧̡̨̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̗̻̣̻̠̘̪̲͇͈̼̜̱̭̭͈̜̖̯̮̻̯̪̭̼̻̩͍̱̻̙͈̟̝̜̜̼̞̻͔͉̭͙̥̝̻̤̠̲̬̳̺̦͇̥̟̲̭̰͙̩̬͚͎̘̩̪̳͈͎̹͕̟̘̙̱̤̟̻̣̲̬̲͎̞̻̭̣͚̥͖̱̱̖̫͖͇̩̣̪̖͔͍̩͈͙͉͍̖̓̊̊̓͊̑̒̅͛͐̃̃̀̈́̈́̅́̋̎̑̐̍̈́͒͗̑̄̈̾͂̇̅̓̀͗̏̎̂̄́͊̾̾͊̊̂̾̾͛͑̽͊̂̍̒͛̇̉̏̏͑̽̽͑̆̇̔́̐̐̎̉̉͌̋͆̀̽̎̈̈̈͐͛̄͗̐̀̄̐̓̃͂͂͑̾̋͗́͑̈̇͐̎̾̑̿̃̊̄̐͋̊͑̑͛̆̾͋̃͌̽͆̏͊͛͐̍̋̄̇̆̋͑͂̓͗͊͊̇͒̉̇͌̅̌͑̅̿̏͂̂̽̈̈̓̉̾͋̊͐̂͘͘͘͘͘̕͘̚̚͘̕͘͘̚͘̚̚͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅŢ̸̨̢̨̡̡̛̛̛̛̛̭̜̬̼̯̙̜͉̬̻̰͖̙̗͕͇̟̳͈̝͚̟̦͓̣̘̩̗̤̻͉͉̲̥̙̦͇̣̜͙̳̣̲͍͈̜̭̲̥̄͐͊̽͂̀͊̀̓̊̋̂̅̑͛͗̐̋͛͂͗͊̅́̉̄̽̐̀̌͒͑̐̈͒̀͛͛̂̈́͋̀̽͛̏̀̉̀͒̑̌̾͑͆̈̌̃̔̆̿͐͗̋͌́̾̌͋͗͗̅̐̍̓͗̂̋͌̔̽̅͐̇̂͆͒͊̋̇͗̓̾͆͌̃͐̈͛̎̓̂̊͂̓̀̐͐͑̾́͛̽͛̂́̋͑̀̑́̾̏̅̒́͛͂̍̋͑͐̇̈́̍̃̐͊͋̉̑̏̊͌̓̾͗̅̋̅̍̆̆͋̍̚̕̕̚̕̚̚͘͘̕̚̚̚͘̚̚͘̚͘̚̕̚̕͜͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͠͝ͅ ̴̡̧̢̡̧̢̢̧̢͔̜̠̦͙̜͓̲̭̯͍̯̲͈̜̺͈̰͕̤̬͚̮̮̤̤̥͚̻̮̤̠̜̠͙̪͚̠̺̟͖̙͚̺̪̺̺̖̣̝͎͚̱̲͎̻̹̼̖̹̱̠͇̯͇̻̩̗̭̝̥̯̯͉̣̼͉̝͉̱̱͇͉̯͍̥͙̥̹͈̦̻̟̥̯͈̭̜̯͔̮̺̠̼̘̰͖̼̣̳̰̼̱͕̰͔̪͔̳̬̥̣̩̩͎̜̙̝̙̳̼̹̳̬̘͍̰͓͎̳̯̳̻̫̦̤̎̈̉̐̐̂̿̐͒̔̈̓̎̑͂̀̽̂̆̒̇̈́͑͌̂̍̂̇̒̎̃̐̍͐̅͆́̐̐̾̔͘̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅI̸̢̢̧̡̧̨̨̨̛̛̟̩̗̤̙̲̺̖͖͖̮̯̞̪͖͈̬̙̝̟͚̤̲̝͉̥̦̭̲̬̰͇̫͚̺̤̪̬̮̪͉͈͕̳̞͖̰̬̱̱̗̻͎̱͓̣̘̼͇̘̭̯̮͎̭̥͚̝̻̝̹̘͙̠̹͎͖͖̱̘̦̙͖͈͇̱̲͙̪̯̮͙̳̳̠̼͈̗̰̗͈̻̻̥͓̪̯̼͚̟̯͙̩͙͙̯͕̝̤̭͍̲͐̅̿͐̅̈́̄͐̃̈́̓͗̈̿̆́̏̏́̏̐̎̐͋̓̏͊̈́̃͐̄̈͐̌̈́͌̓̋̑̊̒͋̍͆̽̇̃͛̈́̋͂̎̎́̄͌̆̎̃̅̎̆̍̒̍̍͋͆́̌̃̆͊̐̏͒̾͛̽̚̕̚̕͘͘̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝ͅͅḈ̷̧̢̢̛̛̛̛̛̭̣͓̟̦̫͓̞̠͍̘͓̯͓̝͔̜̬̮͓͇̭̼̭̼̗̣̳̠͍̫̬̖͉̠͕͇̤͎̟̟̳̹͉̗̘̟̈̀͋̈̎͑̌̍͗̈̈́̃̽͛͂̐͊̀̾̄͌̉́̆̑̀̋̎̏͐̎̐͗̂͋̃̀͌̈́̍͒͐͐̅̅͋͑̍́̓͊̎̀͑̏̏̔̂͛̄͌͗̀̋̓̃͌͆̄͌̂̋̐͋̇̃̀͒͊̐͛͑̄̄̏̆̍͂̇̂̉͂͌̈̓̒̄͋̂͗̇̊̾̾͋͑̏̅̚̕̚̕͘͘͘̚͘͘̕̚͘͘͘͜͝͠͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅ _

_ ̵̧̧̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̩̯̼̦̟̪̠̦̞͉̩̜͓̻͖̝̼̱̟̬̘͙̹̗͓͇̰͉̺͉̫̫̞͍̳̣̬͕̙̤͓̠̙͓͚̤̮̈͑͗̌͂̅͛̽̋̈̈́̆̃̿̎̅̍͆̐͂̔̓̊̓̀́̎̆̔̿̋̓̏̊̔͛̆̎̈́̑̑͗̈̊̄͋̉͌̈́́̇̅̎̀̍͊̆͐͊̿̾̉͊͆̒̽̇̎̏̑̔̅̇͒̈̑̈̃̏̉̀́̇͊͂͒̃̆̌̌̋̑̐̄͗͊̎̂̓̍̓̌̆̅͐͗̐̿͊͗̊͗͐͑̑̄̏̌̅̒̎̾̔̽͂͋̊̌͛̔̽̑̓͋̃̅̿͒͒̇̿̊̏̎͂͆̆̾̒͌̐͑̓̄͐͊̑͌̓̓̿̂̋̽̌̃̇͗̄̊̕̕̚̕̚͘͘͘̕͘̚͘͜͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͠ _

_ as his head r̴̢̨̛̙̝̣̤̠̣̱̀̎̾̅͊̅͌͐̾̾̚͝͠ȩ̴̡̨̢̪̗̹̣͎͎̾͐̋̿̄̔̆̈ͅͅę̷͎̮̟̞̤̭͖̳̿̓͐̌̏̃͛̆͆͌̏̔͜ͅe̵̢̨͙͓͍͈͕̱͇̹͎͋́̾̄͑̈͜͝e̷̡̬̟̩͕͓̭̬̭̊̀͋̽͒̄̕͜͝͠ë̴̢̛̖̤͕̖̻̮̼̗̩̳͔̠̳͆̐̂̉e̸̜̠͓̯̹͔͉͇͖̅e̶̖̺͈̘̦̞̦̲̼̹̲̬̟͛̎̄̎̀͐̊̂̃́̎͘ę̶̛͕̱͓̫͚̪̪̘̱͖̍͆̇͂̀̿̃́ͅl̶̡͇̩͚̖̙͎͌͒́͝e̶̹͓̊́̌͋̔ď̵̼̠͈͎̐͑̿̅̚.  _

 

 

 

_ ł̶ ̵₮̵Ø̸Ⱡ̴Đ̷ ̸₱̴Ɇ̸Ø̸₱̶Ⱡ̷Ɇ̵ ̵₵̶₳̵₦̷'̴₮̷ ̷Ⱨ̴Ø̶Ⱡ̸Đ̶ ̶Ɏ̸Ø̶Ʉ̴Ɽ̶ ̶₥̸Ø̷Ʉ̶₮̶Ⱨ̸ ̴₳̵₦̶Đ̵ ̶₦̸Ø̶₩̶ ̸₮̷Ⱨ̸Ɇ̵Ɏ̴'̴Ɽ̴Ɇ̶ ̸₮̵₳̴Ⱡ̴₭̶ł̷₦̴₲̶ ̴₴̶Ⱨ̸ł̶₮̴,̷ ̸ł̴'̶₥̷ ̷₦̷Ø̴ ̷₣̴ł̴V̷Ɇ̴ ̷Ɏ̵Ɇ̶₳̴Ɽ̸ ̷Ø̸Ⱡ̴Đ̶ ̸₥̸Ɏ̶ ̷₥̶ł̸₦̴Đ̴₴̶ ̷₳̸Ⱡ̶₩̴₳̴Ɏ̸₴̸ ̵₴̶₱̸ł̷₦̶₦̴ł̸₦̸₲̸ ̵₳̵Ɽ̶Ø̶Ʉ̴₦̷Đ̴ ̵ł̷ ̵₣̷Ɇ̸Ɇ̶Ⱡ̵ ̴₴̷ł̸₵̸₭̶.̶.̴.̴ _

 

_ H̷e̵ ̸f̷o̵u̷n̴d̷.̶ ̸ _

_ ̷ _

_ _

_ ̶ _

_ ̵O̶n̸ ̴t̷h̵e̸.̵ _

_ ̴ _

_ ̷G̷r̴o̸u̴n̶d̷.̶  _ **_̷██████████████████████████████_ ** **_  
_ ** **_███████_ ** _ ███████████████████████ _ _   
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_ _ ██████████████████████████████ _ _   
_ _ ██████████████████████████████ _ _   
_ _ ██████████████████████████████ _ _   
_ __ ██████████████

 

_ h̶i̵d̸ ̷h̷e̶a̶d̸ ̶t̴h̴r̷o̶b̴b̸e̴d̴ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ _

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_ ̴̨̨̛̻̲̟̪̞͉̹̼̗͙̖̈̔̆̉͆̑̒́͋̔̐̕͠͝█̸̧̡̨̠̱̣͔̘̝̜̦͓̬̻̟̮̭̰̙̞̪̳̮͍̀̌̒̓̋̓́͌͆̿͗́̃̌͗̌͋̇̎̿̔̆̊͘̚͜͠͠͝█̴̧̡̛͕͕̘̗̭̫̟̺͍͓̬̪̠̬̥̯̩̟̭͖̲̯̈́͌̍͋̑̓̀̀͋͛̔̈́̎͋̐͂̀̀̏͘͜͜͝ͅ█̴̨̨̛̺͔̟̫̮̱̖͈̯̙͉͔̰̹̍̍͆̀̌̀̌͝█̵̢̣̫͖̝̰̦̹̮̺͖̝̞̙̖̞̟͙͍͇̜͔͒͛͐̄̋̀̓͌̿̃̀͊̾̌̿̃͘̚͜͝█̵̡̺̲̝̙̗̝͉̯̯͚̚̚█̶͉̂̍̈͒█̷̨̢̛̞̲̳͚͓̝̲̪͙̊͛̿̈́͐̓̄͌̾́̍͗́̅̐̾̃̎͗̐͘͘͘͠█̶̧̨̢̛͓̘͍̻̯̦̲̥̞̠̩̬̦͗͒̌͒̈́̓͋̽͛́̋̌̐̐̃̿͒̑̋͋̉̿͌̉̐͠͝█̷̛̝̦̓̏͗́̀͂͋͌͛͑́̽͐͊̾̈́̈́̽͌̏̾̚͝͝͝█̸̨̧̢̪̟̺̺̺̤̮͉̭̫͕͙̥̯̬̦̏͗͊͋̑͐̊͒̍͒͋͘̚͜͠█̵̡̗͖͍̥̣̐͛̾̾͋̈͌͒͒̄̂̇̈́̚͝█̴̢̨̡̳̪̦̞̞̞̜̱͙̦͙͙̫͓̟͍͍̳̪͈͎̙͕͎̈́̎̅̈́͜͜█̴̡̢̼̰͔̝̻͇̫̘͓̪̤̰̫̆̇̓̉͐̎͝͝͝█̶̧̣̖̿̿̏̊̎̅͊͊̚͝█̸̡̢̧̛͈̻̝̰̙̮͖͓̏̀͑̈́̑̅̽͋̇̓̑͗͛̈̾͆͒͒̎̇̋̓͊͛̒͗̕͜█̶̞̘̣͕̹̞͈͓̲̖͕̙͍̰͓͕̼̀́͗͒̒̄̆̇͋̈͒̉̏̄͗͂͐͗͒̇͑̕̚̕͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅ█̵̢͉͇̰̱͈̯̏̆̔̆͑͐̇͛̈́̈͆̓̍͘̚ͅ█̴̧̨̨̗̠̦͖͉̹͍̫̘̣̦̠̦̞̞̫̜̤̪͚̠̤̈͛̄͜͝ͅ█̸̲̹̏͌͐͊̈́̽̊͛̇̎̄͒̏̐́̈́͗͌̽̀̽█̵̡̡̢̛̱͉͙̝̦̻̱̤̜͙͉̼͉̭̦͚̪̭̘͍͉̪̟͍̒̈͆͐̈͑̄͜͜͠█̶̛͙̤͇̲̾̌́͋̐̆͑̿̔̑̀̋̐̉̋̕͘͝͠█̶̛̛͍̬̥̯̼̼͇͎͇̰̬̬͎̳͕̫͙̙͆͂̍̋̓̓̀͛̑̉͑̈́̚̚͜█̷̢͇̱͎͉̣͓̹͉̮͉̹̫͓͌̃̈́̿͂̂̔̿̓̍̐̊̏̓̇̍͊͐̍̾̕̕͠͠͠͝█̴͔̼̗̦̟̻̟̥̗̝͍̹̺̪͙̦̞̦͚̱̼̪̽̈̾̽́͆̆́́̂͘͝█̵̨̧̰͖̯͍̟̙̰͍̟̹̯͕̙̙̫̬̖̪̮͍͓̯̪̬̩̲̐͌̏͑̄̔͋̃̉͋̀̑͗͑̅̽̈́̍͗̏̐̉͑̈́̌̐͒͜͝͠█̸̡̨̻̳͇̮͖̹̮̮̝͓̩̺̜͉͓̫̩̙̻̝͍̥̆͘͜͝ͅ█̶̡̛͇̺̣͙̭̯̲͇͕̺͓͓͕̘̘͕͔͗̍̓̓̐̇͒͋̈́͐͑̃͋̎̀͆̄̉̀̿̌̚̚̚̕͠ͅ█̶̨̨͈͉̫̲͙͕̦̮̻͓͇́͐͑͐͑͗̈́́́̄̆̽̃̑ͅͅ█̷͉̉͐̀̇͂͊͋̆̀̍̓̎͠█̸̠̼̖̫̮̦̤͔̬̼̞̻̍̆̊̎̒̆͒̔͋͊͌̿̽̆̑ _

_ ̶̨̡̫̣̞͓͓̗̫͇͎̝̫̖̄̍̽̀͒̓͐́͒͋͒̐̇̈́̂̈̄̾̎̇̂͂͘͘͜͝█̵̨̛̞̻̤͓̫̯͉͚̺̲͎̮̺͚͓̣͍͗͑̓̾̇̓̓̿͜͜█̴̛͈̙̲̤̦͒͐̓̿͊̋͊̀̎̓̓́͠͠͝█̵̡͚͎͓̞̳̪͛̋̆̑͑̋̎́̿̈́͛̇͋̌̿͝͝█̶̞̞̜̱̰͔̔̒͐̊̾̅̾̾͘̚█̷̡͇̦̟̓̉̒̀̌̓̀ͅ█̴̢͉͇̪͎͎̖͙͔̙͔͇͓̳̠̠͔̗̣͐͌̇͑̉̐̈́̋̀̓̊̕͜█̶̝̼̜̀̀̄̀̃̍́̋̇̉͋̈́̚̚͝█̷̡͙̝̹̰̘͉̬̘̅͋̆̑͛̃̀̑ͅ█̴̢̡̗̙̪̰̭̤̗̻̺̮̲͎̈́̎̅͑̀͛͛͋͂͗̓̏̃͋̕͘͜█̸̢̢̯̻̰̩̻̙̹͈̣̗̖̪͙̈́̿̽̑̓͆͑́̒̔͗̀̈͊͌̈́̈̚͠͠͝█̵̢̡̣̝̙̯͚̼̙̬̻̘͖͓͈̫͈̞̩͖̭͈͙̠͔̟̩̹̍͑̀̇͗̈́̍͗̈́́͋̅́̿͂͝͝█̸̨̢̨̛̛̛̣̰͙̻̒̀̄͗̆̀͂͆̌͊͐͋̓̈͋́͆̆̽̾͆̓̚͘͝͝ͅ█̴̣͙̺̥̘͉̰͆̐̐̒̂̆̒͛͊̓͊̌͌́̚͝ͅ█̴̙̹͍͉̤̞̰͚̻̘̬̭̳͎̣̘̭͓̉̏̍͛̓̉̎͆͂̌͜█̶̧̯̫̣̩̱̙͓͎̤̰̥̤̮̖̜̬̭͉̙̜͎͖̫̻̝͒̉̋͌̂̿͆̄̔̉̄̊̀̕͝█̴̢̡̤͉͇̩̣̖̰̫̩͙̮͙̞̦̖̼̥͚͕͓̝͉̼͎͙̥́̏̒́̑̀̃̀̔̋̽̅̽̊͐̚̚̚͝ͅ█̵̡̡̡̛̠̩̩̣͍̩̖͙̲͔̝̻͉̟̘͆̿̉͐̋̈͂̍̊̔̂̍̎́͐͝█̷̼͎̬̝̩͉̳̦͕̤̘̱̳̩͙̎̌̂́͐́̉̾̅͌͋̌̌͑͆̎͝█̴̧̨̢̢̬͔̝̥̫̭̙̰̬̼̯̯̥̠̜̱̱͚̠̳̈́̆́͐̕█̶̡̨̛͉͈̦̳̱̗̖̝̊͛̂͑́̏̽͋̀͛̇̅͛͛̿͛̽̒͑̂̏͆͆͘͘̚̚█̸̛͚̪͔͎͉̻̭͖͖̬͚̘̗̫͔̩̮̯͓̯̳͓͈̦̖͙̪͙͑̊̄͐̒̈́̿̓̑̿̈́̅̆̀̎̉̑̓͑͘̕̕͘͠͝█̴̲̖͍̙͙̹͂̿̉͂̍̅̒̌̈̈́͘͝͠͠█̴͎̹͇͔͍͔̭̭̞̼̻͂͛͐̀̄̈̀̅́̒͆̒̃͊̂̉̃̂̆̌͗̈̋█̶̬̦̪̥͉̜͆̋̓͑̀̔̃̿̀̓̂͛̏̆̒̏̌̄͑̽̈́͌͘͜͝͠█̵̢̛͔͇̺̳͈̺̠͎̰̗͔̞̹̤̙̤͉̞̔̎̾͆̈́̆̄̊͋́̈̿͌͂̓̇̓́̈̔͜͜͜͠ͅͅ█̶̡͙̜̦̺͖̖͖̯̭͎͖̫̻͙̰͖̲̮̜͊̍█̷̢̛̛̭̬̠̞̙̐̇̀́́͗̐̂̃̏̍̐̌̃̐̔̒͒́̔͘͜͠█̶̧̡̛̛̦̮̫͔͖͆̀̋̾͗̀̓͊̏̈̀̿̓̍̽͋̋̈́̏͂̽͛̕̕͝͝█̸̢̛̛̥̹̝͕͕̳̜̘̳͚͎͔̘͉̙͎͊̒̉̀̈̒̊̎̀̃̑̅ͅ█̴̢̡̡̘̖̗̱͔̟͖̣̖̗̫̩͚̩̭̘͕͙̉͂̅͊͋͐̂̇̀̈́̀̀̕͜͝͝͠ͅ _

_ ̵̨̩̠͕̝͈͖̞͙̹̳͕̮̺̽͌̆̈́́̾͘͘͠ͅ█̸̡̛̯̦̪̭̹̺̳̿͐̃̿̿̾͊́̃̉̒́͒̈͑̑̑̑̂͘̕͝͝█̸̡̢͙̰͍͎̹͈̠̬̫́̍█̵̡̡̡̨̖̦̖͚͔͖̺̮͒̾͐̉̆̾͘ͅ█̴̦͍̤̣̜̦͆̓̿̽͂̔͂́̒̇͑͌͛̓̓̂̃́̕͘͠█̵͉̲̜̮͓̈́͗̈́̆͂̅̎̂͆̽̂̿̈̈́̀̓̃̏̓̚█̶̺̖̭̪̌̓͌̇̔̈́͠͝█̷̭̩̭̮͎̣̦͉͔͇͖͓̠̘͔̆̓̋̔̈͆͂̊̀̏͊͌̈́̎̉͗́̕̚̚͜͝ͅ█̵̨̟͙͈̲̱̩̪̹̲̮̣̪̰͙͈̠̣̓̓̈̋̿█̸̢̠̦͚͖̣̥̓̈́̊̅̇̿█̵̡̧̮̬̝͉̯̺̙̝̻̖̗̪̱͕̙̪̳͙̝̣̦̲̖͇̟͋͌͒̀͒̅̄̈̓͗̀̋̒̎̔͂̏͘͜͠ͅ█̷̨̡̢̢̡̛̪̠̜̹͎̫̯͙͈̜͚̮̻̩̠̳͕̘̲̯͍̼̗͋̌̋͐̔̾̒̉̑̈̂̀͋̎̚͝ͅ█̴̨͓͕̤͖̥̦̼͚̼͖͚̏̒̎̔́͆̀̂́͛͐̅̑̒͋͑̿̋͒͆͗͜͠͠͠͠█̵̧̡̦̱͚͖̝͖͍͎̙̪͆̈͒̈́̓̾̏͑̋̾͋̈́͐͐͑̾͌̄͆͐̇͘̚█̵̨̡͖̲͇̲͉̹̲̲͓̖͇͕͈̪̲̹͇̭̤̻̰͎̫̤̩͗̄͜█̵̼͆́̏̂͌̒̿̀̔̔̂͐͝͝█̶̢̢̡̛̛̦̣̤̱̰̖̤͕̤͓͓̹̌̐̈̂̏̃̂̀̿͆͊̽̽̈͊͐́́͊͑͘͘͘͝█̶̢̡̺̘͚̠͍̗̦̗̖̮̺̘̜̝̖͈͖̣̅̓̏̽̏̾̄͊͜█̴̡̗̘͙̣͉̫̝̹̖̓̔͐̉̔́̄̍͂͘͘͠█̵̧̡̦̖͙̤͙̞̦̞̗̟̰̝̮͇̦͎͙̱̰̻̪̈́̇͛̈́͑̆̅͊̈͝͝͝█̶̧̛̝̳̬̥̻͈̗̀̐̅͐̅̍́̏͑̈́̎͐̓̂̑̇█̷̛̪͉͖͉̮̖̙̣̮̦̣̩́̎̔̈̏̄̂̾̅̓̈́̐͆̏͝█̵̧̙̗͎̻̭̤̬̬̗̻̖͖͒͜█̶̛͍̐̉̌̉̌̽͋́̄̉̆̂͘͝͝█̵͓̦̓̄̃͋̽̋̉̚̕͝͝█̴̧̡̛͉͍̝̼̞̼͙̙̱͚̳̼̻̘̮̳̝̲͚̣͈͔͓̜̫̀̎̐̀͌̑̃̈́͂͊͊̂̿̀̿̽͒͑̉̕͝͝█̷̡̬̻̙̼̖̼̞̭̈́͂̆̑̓͊͒̓̐͑̽͗͜͜█̶̨̲͚̺̥̮͙̤̯̬̩͐́̈́̀̔̍̆̚͜͜ͅ█̷̤̲̝͓͈̻͇̹̩̤͎̩̟͌̏̅̈̓͛́̄͌̒͂͒̿̒̓̽̉͠█̷̛̹̘͈̠͇̈́̎̊̊̄̀̀̈͑̏͗̎̊̾͆͂̐̒͒̚̚͝͠ͅ█̸̧̘͔̓̋̌̈́ _

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_ ̴̱͉̽̂̈̓̍̉̌̓̚̕█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

 

 

 

 

 

 _E̷x̸t̶e̷r̷m̴i̵n̶a̶t̴o̶r̸ ̴W̷a̵y̴ ̴f̵l̵a̸s̸h̴e̵d̴ ̸i̴n̷t̵o̵ ̷M̷r̷.̵ ̸I̶e̸r̷o̷’̵s̷ ̶v̸i̸s̷i̵o̴n̵.̷ ̸H̶i̴s̵ ̸f̸i̶n̷g̴e̸r̷s̴ ̴t̴h̷r̵e̴a̷d̷e̷d̷ ̸i̷n̵t̸o̵ ̴t̶h̴e̷ ̸s̸h̶o̶r̷t̷e̷r̵ ̸m̶a̷n̴’̵s̵ ̷h̴a̵i̵r̴ ̷a̸n̸d̶ ̶j̵e̷r̴k̴e̴d̷ ̸h̷i̴m̶ ̸t̷o̶ ̸h̷i̷s̴ ̷f̸e̶e̶t̷.̶ ̸M̴r̵.̸ ̷I̵e̶r̶o̷’̸s̴ ̷s̶c̵a̴l̵p̵ ̶b̶e̸g̶g̷e̴d̶ ̶f̸o̵r̷ ̸m̸e̸r̶c̴y̷ ̵a̶s̵ ̴E̸x̴t̷e̸r̸m̷i̵n̸a̵t̴o̴r̴ ̵W̶a̷y̴ ̸s̵l̸a̵m̴m̵e̸d̵ ̶h̴i̷m̴ ̴a̸g̸a̶i̸n̵s̸t̷ ̶a̷ ̸w̵a̶l̴l̸.̵ ̸T̶h̸e̵ ̸w̵i̸n̷d̸ ̷g̵o̷t̶ ̸k̸n̸o̶c̸k̵e̸d̵ ̶o̸u̵t̴ ̴o̷f̵ ̸M̷r̷.̵ ̸I̴e̴r̵o̶ ̶a̴n̵d̵ ̸b̶l̷o̷o̸d̶s̷t̸a̸i̵n̴e̴d̷ ̴a̶c̵i̶d̸ ̷f̵l̵e̶w̶ ̴o̷u̶t̴ ̶o̷f̴ ̸h̵i̴s̴ ̵t̶h̴r̷o̴a̷t̷.̸ ̶H̸i̴s̸ ̶s̵t̸o̵m̴a̵c̷h̷ ̶b̷u̴r̸n̵e̸d̷ ̷a̵s̶ ̸h̵e̵ ̸s̶t̸r̶u̴g̶g̴l̶e̴d̶ ̴t̸o̷ ̸g̷e̷t̴ ̴a̷ ̸h̸o̶l̷d̶ ̷o̷f̸ ̶h̷i̴s̷ ̵b̴r̴e̴a̵t̵h̷.̷_ _̷_

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_ ̴ ̶E̶x̴t̸e̴r̶m̶i̸n̷a̵t̴o̵r̶ ̵M̶i̵k̷e̴y̸ ̸y̸a̶n̷k̸e̷d̵ ̶b̷a̶c̵k̶ ̴M̴r̵.̸ ̶I̴e̴r̶o̷’̵s̵ ̴h̶e̸a̴d̸ ̴b̴y̵ ̷t̷h̵e̴ ̸h̵a̷i̴r̸.̴ ̵F̸o̷r̸ ̵a̶ ̶s̷p̷l̸i̶t̴ ̷s̶e̶c̵o̵n̸d̶,̵ ̴h̸i̴s̷ ̶e̸y̷e̶s̷ ̸w̴e̵r̴e̶ ̶b̴u̸r̸n̶e̸d̴ ̶b̶y̷ ̶t̸h̵e̸ ̸w̸h̵i̶t̴e̴ ̴L̶E̴D̶ ̵l̶i̵g̴h̷t̶s̴ ̶b̴u̸i̴l̵t̵ ̸i̵n̵t̵o̷ ̴t̵h̸e̷ ̸c̶e̸i̵l̸i̶n̴g̶ ̸t̸h̷a̴t̴ ̵h̶e̸ ̴s̶e̵e̷m̴e̵d̵ ̶t̶o̷ ̵h̴a̶v̵e̸ ̴n̸o̷ ̵c̷h̸o̴i̴c̸e̷ ̸t̸o̶ ̸l̵o̶o̸k̶ ̷a̸t̷.̸ ̶T̷h̸e̶n̵ ̷t̴i̸m̵e̴ ̷s̴l̸a̸m̶m̷e̶d̸ ̷b̸a̵c̵k̴ ̶i̶n̴t̴o̷ ̴m̴o̸t̸i̴o̴n̶ ̵a̴n̸d̴ ̸M̴r̴.̶ ̷I̷e̵r̵o̵’̷s̶ ̶h̴e̵a̷d̷ ̸j̵e̴r̴k̴e̴d̸ ̸b̸a̴c̵k̷ ̸t̶o̶ ̴i̶t̸s̴ ̸u̵s̵u̸a̶l̷ ̵p̵l̵a̸c̵e̸.̸ ̸H̵i̷s̴ ̷t̷e̴e̸t̵h̴ ̸d̵u̶g̵ ̸i̵n̸t̴o̵ ̵h̶i̷s̵ ̵t̸o̵n̷g̴u̷e̸ ̸h̶a̷r̵d̸ ̷a̷s̶ ̴b̵l̸o̴o̷d̷ ̷s̶q̶u̷i̶r̵t̷e̸d̵ ̶o̴n̵t̶o̷ ̴t̸h̸e̶ ̵w̴a̶l̶l̴.̷ ̵“̷F̴u̶c̷k̵!̶”̷ ̵h̴e̸ ̷b̶l̸a̴b̴b̶e̶d̸,̷ ̶h̸i̵s̵ ̴t̸o̵n̴g̴u̷e̷ ̶t̷h̷r̸o̷b̵b̵i̷n̵g̴ ̸f̷r̶o̵m̵ ̵h̶a̶v̶i̵n̷g̵ ̸r̷e̶o̷p̷e̸n̷e̸d̸ ̵a̶n̸ ̸o̶l̴d̶ ̸w̵o̶u̸n̶d̸.̵ ̴B̷u̶t̸ ̷t̶h̴a̵t̵ ̶o̸n̷e̵ ̵w̸a̵s̷ ̷g̷a̸i̸n̴e̶d̷ ̵f̸r̷o̶m̴ ̵a̸n̴o̴t̷h̵e̶r̴ ̸t̸i̸m̴e̵,̴ ̴a̴n̵d̷ ̴a̸t̴ ̶a̴ ̸m̵u̴c̷h̴ ̸h̶a̶p̸p̷i̶e̴r̶ ̶i̴n̷c̶i̶d̶e̶n̶t̶.̵ ̵ _

_ ̵ _

_ ̶̧̢̡̡̧̛̛̛̛̠͔̤̺͍̤̬̹̗͈͍͓̻̙̭̣̻͍̰̳͓̹̦̪̣̰̫̖͙̤̰͔̘̝̻͖̙͉̻̝̦̳̭̜̜͍̦̳̘̩̦̞͓̲͍̤͈̳̼̙̫̗̺̠͓̩̼̌͆͒͒̎̊̌͌͐̐͗̈̈́̏̎̒̔̎̄͗̈́̀̈́̅̒̓́̊͒̀̆̏͗͛͑̽̋͑̔͐̒͌̄̔̀̒̃̓̉̔̉̉̇̽̒̄͒͆̀̈́̿̅́̃̔̌̏͊́̿̀̀̄͒̇̑̽̒́̐͗͒́̾̃̈̓͂͋̏͋́̔͊͒͛͆̒͒͂͌͒̊̈̄̐̆͆̎̃̀̌̀̔̎͊̇̒̉͋̈̔̄̿͋̐̎̉̊́̔͋́̋̍̀̔͐̒͛̔͗͊͒͒̀̉́̓̿̉̍̃̃͊̉͂̋̒̉͑͘̕͘̕̕̚̕̕̕̕͘̚͘̕͜͠͠͠͠͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅ ̶̡̡̨̧̢̧̡̡̧̢̧̢̨̧̢̨̡̡̨̛̛̛̱͈͎͔̯͔̤̮͚̭̘̲̖̙̫̭̗͖̥̣̝̯͕̬̤͕͈̘͍̣̯̺̘͎̣͚̭͈̪̞̞̤̭͉̭̥̫͙͕̻̺͕͓̬̦̪̺͇͚͓̲͚̙͓̤̞̟̮̭̤͓͓̗̮͇͙͎̜͎̳͇̮̙̝̮̗̣̩̼̳̬̹̤̺̦̮̝̰̯̝͙̥͓͈̥̼͖̤̗͕̯̱̱̺̻̱͈̬͙̲̥̤̫̘̘͖̬̞͎̞̳̖̝̘̭̠̮̣͓͍͉̩̤̰̟͉̖̟̝̠̪͕̪̯̯͇̳̞̬̱̭̰̭̪̬̬͎͙̰̤͕͚̣̝̲̼̠̙̖͖̫̰̭̙̻̯̻̳͖̙̣̯̺̮͕̯̼̤̙͙̗̝͉̙͈͇͇̪̺̠̪̗̠͉̹͖̲̪̖̯̜̤̊̆͒̈́̀͛̍̔̈͛̀̊͂̑͑̌̔̅͐̇̾͒̊̇͂̿̉̐̆͛̈́͛͋͑̊̒́͂̂̉̍̇͑̍́̌̀͌̒̆̈́̔͊̅́̔͌͂̐͊̅̈̏͆̉̎̓̎̎̒̾̌̂̄̊͐̾͛̒̎͆̂́̒̌̐̏̈̋̊̽̔̅̽̿̈̌͂́̋̔͋͊͒̌͒́̆̌̉͊̽̿͛͌̓̏̈̔̄̔͋̂̋̑̂̌̊̑͛̍͛̀͆̿́̾̅̓͌͋͒̊͊̋̾͋͆̿̍͑͌̐̃̒̎̉̕̕̚̕̚̚̚̕͘̕̚̕̕̕̚̕͘͘̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̸̧̧̢̧̡̧̢̡̛̛̛̛̛̮̘͙̱͔̣͚͎͎̬͎͉̦̝͖̹̪̗̥̦̝̦͎͚͉͈̥̟̹̜̭̗̞̘̫̪̼̼̹̲̳̞̦̦̻͉̫̩͉̥̜͕͔͍͉̣͎̖̣̤̝͎̦͓͍̯̺̲̼̦͉̩̪̥̘̝̳̦͉̟̩̙̠͉̱͕̘̬̣̙͔̥͈̥͙͇̬͓̗͖̫̟̣̯̹̺͙͔͇̖̺͈͚̥͎͍̝̘̟͙̺̞̻̯͓̠̹͉̫̳̖̦̪̜̬͇̖̯͔͍̟̮̞̻͎̫͈͚̯̳̜̩͖̪̭̥̭̺̍͆̂͆̿̿̉̀̀̎̆̅̌̅̇̽͆͛͆̊̓͒̇̉͗̒̏̉̇̈͑̾̂̑̅̆͑̄̅͆̐́̏̌͛̈́͒̓̃̂͆͆̔́͐͋̀̓͑̅̿̆̏͋̎̈̎̀̄̎́̌̋̊̉̀͋̿̈͗̅̑͊̊̈̔̅̌̐̒͛̿̾̎̔͋̇̂̑̒͗̌̈̐͆͌̑̅̄̿̑͋͒͆̎̽̎̉̀͋͋̉̓͂̍͂̂͊̎̊͑͛̒̔̾̉͌̄͒͊̒̐̄͗̈͛̅̑̂͂̾̔̆̄̿̎͌͗͑̋̔̿̉̈̀̅̐̎͂͑̈͒͒͗̍͑̆́̑̎̿̆̆͂̿̍͛̅̔̉̚̕̕͘̕̚͘͘͘͘̚̚̚̚̕̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̢̧̢̨̢̨̧̨̡̡̢͉̫̖̝̤̲̺̘̞̬͈̯̣̮̮̣̙͓̲̝̦͈̭̜͉̻̬̘͔̠̘̞͍̭̝͈͍̟̬̖̥̼̬͉̪̯̖͔̰̥̜̞̬̲̤͍̣̭̠̫͚̳̟̩̜̼̪͇͎̘̬͚͎͇͓̭̼̪̪͈̬̫̱̹̘̹̞̩̰͔͍̟͈̹̯̬̆͛̓̈̄̍̆͑̿͒̃̔̾̒̆̀̊̉̍̎̅̆̂̀́͌̊̉̏̏̽̒͊̒̑͊͆̾͋̍̋͋̆̈́̏̈͊̾̋̌͛́̚̕͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅ ₩̸͕̗̤̻̪͓̬̊͊͌̂̈̈͘Ⱨ̷͈̫͖̺̱̄̚͠Ø̴̘͉͎͘̚͝'̴̻̓͌̓̌̃̔₴̶̞͌͒̔̚͠ ̶̠̑̉₮̵̢͎̲͖͈̩͈̽̈̓͐̈̓͘Ⱨ̷͌͒̾̈͘ͅɆ̸̗͇͉͉͎̗́͘̕ ̴̠͔̖̪̗̗̀͊̈́̓̿̍̕₭̷̥̍̓̉̅ł̶̺̥̹̩̻̜͋̑̏͝Ⱡ̵͕͙̜̾̆̀̈́͐̿͗Ⱡ̴̧̞͙̒̚Ɇ̸̠͈͈͐̇̋̈́Ɽ̶̭̱̯̦͎̑,̴͉̪͇́̐̂̋̓͝ ̸̧̻̟͉̲̟͔͆͑̇͑͛₩̴̢̟̤̱̥̔̐Ⱨ̵̣̈́̄Ø̵̢̡̜̙̦̤̓͛̑̎ͅ'̷̝̈́͆₴̷̢̢͔͌̉̌͜ ̸̧̨̧̠͊͝͝₮̶͓͇̻̖͉̾͒̍͊̕̕͝Ⱨ̸̦͔͍͙͉̆̏̓̃͆́Ɇ̸͕̔̾̉̀̄͛͝ ̸͎̻̄͘₭̵̯̹̽̎ł̴̭͔͍͎͚͍͐́̕Ⱡ̵̨̡̯͔͇̟̄Ⱡ̶̦̙̜̿̎̎Ɇ̵̼͗̌Ɽ̸̣̘̳̳̗̜̗͌̃̓̔͆̐͠,̶̡͙͉̟̰̈͌̐́̄͘͘͜ ̶͚̣̥̪́̓̔͘₩̴̖̪̼͑Ⱨ̶̝̣̪͓̉̓̍͠Ø̵̦͍̬̋̅͜'̷̟̦̜̏̓ͅ₴̷̨̨̻̤̈́͋ ̶̛̝̗̈́̈́̚₮̷̪̰̋̓̊̋Ⱨ̶̛̺̒͋͐̓̈́͜Ɇ̶̢͉̠͌̀̒̎̉͘ ̵̬̩͈̘̏͑̔₭̵̩̞̝̌̋̔̌̋̊͘ł̸̝̮̓͑͆̒̈́̓Ⱡ̸̛̠̭̹̯̥͉͎̔͛͐̚Ⱡ̷̮̓̍̋̊̄͛̈́Ɇ̶̡̩̲̭͙͔͌ͅⱤ̴̖͚̬̻͛́̒̈́̚ ̶̬̘̃̔͑̚͜͠₩̷͎͎̫̱͙̫̊͆͐Ⱨ̸̠̪̝̹̀Ø̵̰̤̲͋̒'̶̛̛̯̪͉̉̀̽͛̒₴̴̨̼̜̦̹̏̽̒ͅ ̵̢̛̲͗͋̋̒̀̓₮̴̱̫͚̗̙̞̔Ⱨ̷͚̺̠̳̐ͅɆ̶̪̦̬͗̀́ ̴̡̰͕̽̔̍́̕͜₭̷̡̱̯̟̖̐̽̉ł̵̖̭̺͈̳̌̉̓̈́͒̅͝ͅⱠ̷̖̓͐Ⱡ̷̨͙̲̱͇̬̲͂͑̓͘Ɇ̸̞̿Ɽ̴̡̖̞̙̜͍̥̀̇́̄͋̑,̶̧̳͍͔͚̝̭̀̑̃̂ ̷̡̡͈͚̤͇̯͝₩̵̢͙̤̻̬̈͊̿̌̊Ⱨ̵̫̯͍͙̅͛̿Ø̸̢̛̘̬̙̥͓̩̂̌̆͘͠͠'̵̡͆͑͂͊ͅ₴̷̢̡̟̞͉̅̒ ̶͚̽̈́͑͜₮̸̱͚͈͒̓̃͐̌Ⱨ̴̮͔̓̽͠Ɇ̷̛̞̯̱̰̙͐̒̕ ̴̡̖̺̝̹͈͂̿₭̸̤̽̐̓̚͠ł̴̪̲̘̼̹͈̱̏͌̇Ⱡ̵̛͙̰̟̆́̓̔̌̕͜Ⱡ̸͔̆́Ɇ̶̙͈̋͌ͅⱤ̴̗͕͈̗̺̂͋̃͝₩̵̨̞̼̹̥̈̐̉̿̽Ⱨ̷̠̦̗̄̌͒̈̚Ø̴͔̑̿͒̚'̷̼̦̘͚̘̦̓̔̂₴̴̮̠̜̍̎̅͂̏ ̷͕̖̟̇̍̇̂͜₮̶̛͙̙͈̝̀̌̇̊̋Ⱨ̶̨̬̻̥͆̂̒̎Ɇ̶̢̱̠̄̈̍̿̕ ̶̨̼̦̮͓̯̀̐̈́͜₭̴̡̣̲͎͖̓͋̾̈́ł̴̱͔̟̝̐̚Ⱡ̶̮̟̙̰͌̀͝Ⱡ̷̱͙̤͈̟̑̕͜͝Ɇ̶̩̯̃̎̈́Ɽ̵̟̭͕͍͕͔͑̏̕͜͠,̶͈͕̬̔́̂̑ ̶̨̦̫̹̤̤̯̐̏̀̿̈́̐₩̸̧̖̣̺̝͠ͅⱧ̷͖͂̐̆̅̓Ø̴̡͎̻̳̫͍̑͑̾̏̈́͠'̸̧͚̹͎̻̈́̑̀͒͝͝₴̸̡̰̼̌̆͂̄ ̴̟͓͙̜̱̇̽͐͆͜₮̴̟̈́͒͆͑Ⱨ̴̝͉̹̚Ɇ̶͚͉̖̀ ̵̣̀̊̉₭̴̡̩̄͑́͑͘ł̶̨̩͖̣̰̆́̌͠ͅⱠ̶͙̱͇͍̐̃̾͌̒͜͝ͅͅⱠ̶̩͇͎͈̘̞̳̋̂̌̌͆̈͠Ɇ̴͍̪͍̬͈̦̈͗͐̽̚͜Ɽ̸̸̡̨̧̧̢̢̢̧̨̨̧̨̧̢̧̨̛̛̛̛̛̛͉̙̱̙̪̼̱͎̠͕͈̭̦̙̱̜̣̥͚̗̤̥̲͖̭̦͖̖̥̘̠̻̤̮̤̮͚̱̻̲̩̖̣͔̥̬͖̫̮͖̜̭̤̝̜̰̹͎̥̯̖̖̣̖̼̥͍͙͚͇̱̣͈͓̟͇̪̰̣̘̼̙͖͎̼̺̝̤̪͈̠̯̺̹̻̩͈̝͎̮̲̙͉̱̰͖͎̻̱̲̭̫͇̟̞̜͉̮͎͖͉̱̣̦̳̪͖̱̣̞̫̙̞̰̗̝̥̰͇̹̭̦͈̗̼͖̖̰̱̠̻̥̱̙͐̒́̀̽̄̿̏̿́̊͂͑̎́̓͐̀̐̌̇̏̊̊̈͑̉̏̀̾̋̑̌̿͂̓͊͗̓̊͛̈́̈̅̑̓̿͛̓͒̉̒̄͑͋͌̂̏͋͂͗̉̈̀́̄̆̀̔̊̂̒͗͐̒̒̎͊͌́̿́̑̎͛̃̇͆̾̌̈̈͛̈̌̅̍̍̃̓̅̀͆̽͒̏̏̿̄͊̄̃̍͊̀̉͌̉́̂̓́̆́̅͘̚͘͘͘͘̕͘͘͘̚͘͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̨̧̧̛̛̥̱̭͍͕̺̪̯͎̥͖̪̘̭̥͓̘̼̦̭̦͓̳̣̼͚̰̱͉͈͙̥̗̤͚̝͕̗̪͙̺̖̲̬̠̠̠̺̤͔̬̤̭̰̾̀̑͛̾̓̄̈́̃̽̀̊̇̈́̈́̿͗̂͒͌͐̀̈́̕̚͘͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅ ̶̨̧̧̡̧̨̧̢̡̡̢̧̨̢̧̨̧̧̛̛̛̤̫̞̝͎͉̻̼̣̱̝̲͈̗͕̭͓̳̖͇̗̰͉̠̻͙̱̱͈͇͕͓̩͈̺̹̟̫͙̯̞̬͚̣̞̱̟̮̜̻͔̞̟̣͎̱̻͎̖̪͕̘͖̱̬̮̥̲̬̠̟̻̣̯̭͖̙̯̬̖͓̝̙̰̣͚̻͍͖͕͉̜̗̩̯̗̹̪̲̹͍̯̝̦̯̩̖̻͙̳̞̘̯̣̲̥̘̩͕̝͔̫̪̬̩͍̩̘̝̻̰̜̞̼̟̟̲̲̹͍̺̤̪̹̟̰͙̞̹̰͎̝̂͆̀̓͋̃̇̈́̿͛̑̀̎͊͋̔̒̇̈́͗̇́͑̒̅̂͋̑̈̈́́͂́͂̀͊́̃̽͌̓̾͗̌̒͗́̽̍͋̈̐͛̍̆̏̅̆̋̄̍̄̈̍̇̓̿͊͗͗̒̎̊̀̅͛̒̔̿̊̃͛̄͒͐̀̃̇̄͒̉͊̒̽̔̐̽̉̕̕̚͘͘̚̚̚͘̕̕͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͠͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̵̢̨̧̧̡̨̨̡̧̨̛̛̛̛̝̱̜̤̣̼͕̮͖͇̪̺̳̮͎̺̰̳̺̠̣͓̟͖͎̟̟̮̙̥̘͇̰̥̠̜̰̝͓̩̯̹̥̥̼̮̞͔̪̼̘̲̩͇͉̗͖̲̙͓̲̹͙̘̭̬̩̥͕̻̙̱̭̳͎̯̝͍̣̩̻͕̘̭̫͋̿̀́́́͐͐̃̈́͂̃͂̃̄̆̽̊̆̾͒͂͆̀͒́͆̅̔̅̈́̽̆̈́̋̋̿̊̏͊̆̎́̿͆̌̿̃͛͐͒̊̿̈͂̉̐̋̄̏̅͐͆͐͌̃̑͆̀̃̒̎̔̉̔͂̍̅͒͐̋͒̉͗̈̏̃̂̎͆̀̒̑̓̔̄̚̕͘͘͘̕̕̚̚͘͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅ ̵̧̛̛̛̛͉̬̭̯̘̖̖͗̅͂͂̿͐̃̆͛̆͐̓͒̀͗̇̿͐̐͒͂̒̈̽̐͆̂͆͌̽̇̉̑͆͌̅͒̒̈́̑̀̓̔̏̿̒̀̐̐̾̿̀̍͐̈̀̾̇̉̐͋̀̽̎̇̾̿͂̂̐̂́͌̾̑̀͒͗̽̓̂̑̔͋̃̑͑̂̊̊̒̅̃̃̿͘͘̚͘͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝ ̷̨̢̡̧̢̡̨̧̢̧̨̨̢̢̧̨̧̨̧̧̧̡̡̛̛̗̙̼̟̺̟̗̮͓̯̘͍͓͕͔͙̟͕̦̱̣̪̹̫͚̠͔̱̭̠̱̮̞̼͕̹̠̺͍̖̦̱̻̱̦̺̮̞͚̭͖̪͉̣͇̪̝̙̭̰̣͎͕͈̜̰͕̩̣̙̠̲̫̩̱͔̤̰̘̻͍̳̲̝̙̙͕̫͇̲̤̲̖̘̪̼̥̭̳͖̳̮̥̜̠͚̫̲̥̗̳̭̞̜̥͇̪̹̹̺͕͙͎̻̞͓̝͔̗͓̗̪̳͖̞̯͍̳̯̪͕̤̹̤͚͚̳͕͙͖̜͉̺̥̠̳͙̭͓̻̻͓͙͚͔̪͖̩͉̣̗̥̗̠̳̗͍̫͚̰̟̱̖̬̼̈̒̄̓̌̉̏̽̐̏̇̄̌͐̔́̈́̑̋̓͛̐͛̎̋̈́͛̇̃͐͆̒̌̑̔̏̓̃̊̉̓̓́͆̑̆̒͑̍͗͊͐͌͛̀̊͗̌̍̎̓̿̇̄̾͌̄̄̌̉̂̀͋̎̏̌̈͒͌͂̽̇̍̆͑͗̀̉͗̐̿̑̍̈̓͛̇̋͗̽̏̊͌̈̒͋̆̊̕̕̕͘͘̕͘̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅ ̸̨̢̢̧̢̢̨̧̧̨̡̛̛̛̞̻̱̫̭̭̹͕̟̞͍̦͇̰͙̗͇̟̥̙͔̹̘̰̯̙͕̠̺͉̳̞̼̹̳͇̲̭͇̯̤͍͎̝̭̠͔̞̖̖̭̻̞̙̖̰̮̹͍̥̲̱̱͓̣̩̣̻̫͔̥͉̖̩͇̰̫̭̬̣͈̫̞̺̭̩̩̤̫̤̳͍̬̥̦͕̖̬̮͕͍̗̞̘̠̤͕̮̜̼͍̣͔̟̠̪͔̺̱̗̻̙͇̩̣̗̬͚̮͍͎̪̮͙̩͕̟͚̙̗͇̮̜̝̦̲̙̣̻̯̦̗̝͓͚͍̥̗̠̤͔̙̗͚͖͎̙͚̦̠̓̐̀̃̈̽̽͋̀̒̃́̃̊͐̽́̐̓͛̒̇̄͗͊͆́̒̓́̿̐̉̋̈́̌̀̅̀͌̋͌̍͗́͗̄̽̾̀̇̇́͋̃̆͑̑͐͊̍͛͒̀͂̌͛̾̍͒̽̽͑͛̿͂̍̄͋͗̽̿̔́͐̓̄̾͊́̾̌̎̌̅́͗͌̀̾́̃̉͂̎̉͂̉͗͌̽̂̾̽̎̾̋̓̓͋͒̌͐͌̄̍̄͒̒̔̾͒̅̏͆̆̍͐̇̌̑́̉͗͒̅̾̽͛͛͆̉̑̽͌̔͗̋̉̔̽̔̄̾̅̒̀̀͌͌̏̈̅̀͘̕̕̕͘̚͘͘͘̕̚̕͘͘̕͜͜͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅ ̸̡̢̢̧̨̡̧̛̛̛̛̛̯̹͔̖̲͈͉̠̱̦͙̞̠̣͍̜͕͇̘̻̖͈̯̝̺̹͍͚̜͚͇̘͕̘̻̥̬̝̥͚̼̬̝̳͙͙̤̫̳̥̜̱̰̞̣̻̦̪̱̓̏̋̉̏͑̋͂̄̀̈́̔̌͂̔̅̑̏̀̔͑̆̋̓̋̏̋͛̈́̉͊̒̀̋̋̽͑̈́͑̾̌̓̈́̽̽͊̄͌̒̒͑̊̑̔̅̌̽̊̀̑̃̽̅̔͋̈̋̔̇͌̄̿̉̄̆̽͋̽̐̉̈̏̒̄̊̔̎͊̀͌͆͗̊̋͋͐͒̽̀̏̀͆̈̔͒̽̅̏́̓̎̽͗͌͛̉͂͋͑̑͒͌̂̐̾͌̒̄͊̑̂͆̋̀̒̃̽͑̆̌͌̊̌̾̏͌͆̾̆͌̑̚͘̚͘͘̚̚͘͘̚͘̕͘̚̕͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅ ̶̧̡̨̢̡̧̢̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̦͙̲̼̞͇͕̗̖̞̳̖̩͉̩͔͎̭̯̣̩̠̖̹̺̦͖̞̥̦̲̻̪͇̭̟͚͖̤̮͚̰̺͖̼̫̞̝̹̩̖̫̖͔̣̲͔͙̣̹͕̯̫̪̜̭̹͉̺͉̮̤̭͚͍̦̦͈͔̞̜͖̣̳̫͓̳̮͉̫̞̖̞̲͕̞̭̗̰̺̠̹͔̱̳͖̦̻̜̥̫͓̥̗̤̫̈́̌̀̿̔́̓̇̂̈́̿̈̒̈́̈́̔̄̓́̿̀̀͌͑̅́̐͗̄̉̈́́́̏͆̈́͛̀͊̔̍̆̑͊͑͆͛̐͛͗̑̏̍̂̀͒͐͑͊̓̋̎̀̈̂̂̀͑̔͛̀͐̂̓̑̑͋̔̋́̓̌̃͛̊͛͆͗̾͆̆̄͂͛̏̎̎͛̅͌͐͒̐͊̋͗̐͊͛̄̓̄͌̇̂͊̏͒̒͑͆̃̌̊͊͋̔͂́͗̒͊̑̒̕͘̚͘͘͘͘͘̕̕͘̕̚̕̕̚͘͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅ ̷̢̢̡̨̧̨̡̧̧̡̡̢̧̡̨̢̡̛̛͉͉̰̳̦͉̝̟̫̲͔̩͔̱͚̣͚̪͍͔̮̱̦͇͉͚͔̱̹͖̰̼͙̥̤̙͇̪̭̝̫͈͉̼̠̺̲̺̖͉̹̬̖̹̖̥͕̞̖͕̼̠̜͎̜̣͔̞̩͇̮̣̘͓͇̻̙̟̱̞̥̯̥̙̙̭͓̼̟̟̝͕̫̥̦͖̺̩̭̬̦̤͓̥̳͚̖̹̩̮͓̘͍͓͈͙͉̖̝͓̦͖̩͇͙̪̦͚̞̹̞̞̳̮̼͚̙̙̠̪͍̹̘̭̮̘̰̹̝͈̃̄̿͊̿̐̾̈͐̀̄͑̾̓̓́̈́̏͆̀̂̇̋̅̈́̎̑͛͌̋́̃̉̐͐̔́̉̇̇̉̒̎̈́̀̾͊̒̌̋̑̀́̍̃̏̎͂͐͗̒̔͗̿̉̾̃̋̾͋̔̊̎͒͑͒͆͊͂̆̒͛͗̿̾̽͌̔̿̿̾̚̚̕͘̕̚̕̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̸̧̢̨̧̡̢̢̡̧̡̢̢̡̡̢̧̡̢̢̡̢̨̛͈͕̭̬̟̞͓̱̰͔̤͈̼͓̯̝͔͉̮̗̙̩̙̣̦̖͙̤̙̜̫̟̪̖̻͙̝͎͎̲̰̬̜͇̖̭͇̘͖̫͎͕̝̝̳̣̰͓͎͕͙̺͖̗̘̦͈̩̝̦̘̦̱̱̲̬̙̗̖̳̺͇̪͓̯̤̹͇͈̹̮̪̦̦͕̙̠̝͉̺̩̲͙̫̳̪̯̳̙̜̯̝̹̫̩͙͈̘̫͔͖̦̠͍͍͖͈͈̲͍̗̣̝̩̲̝̻̻̠͉͓̻̗͕̞͍̯̯͈̞̺̻̯͙͖̖͎̣̝̜̟͍̗̥̼͇̻̙̳͍̹̹̫̝̖͖͇͚̤̼̲̟̯̰͛̏̀̈͆͂̏̉̆̒́͂̊̂͊̈́́̋̈̒͑̇̋̓͊̽̌́͗̑̊̽͐̀͛̔͘͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̡̡̧̧̧̢̧̡̡̨̡̧̨̡̢̨̢̧̨̢̜͓̣͍͔̜̝̱̱̼̣̭̤͕̼̣̗͖̙͇̦͈̳͎̺͈̠̣̺̼͕̙͙̞̩̻̜̩̪̪̖̫̩͎͚̼̜͉̬͕̻̗͔̩͖̖͓̝̘̦̞̩̞̯̟͚̘̟̤͕̻̺̦̳̬̮̘̫̻̰̩̞̲͚͖̜̫̝͔̫̤̤̞̺̱̥͕̬̰̪͙͓̳͓͔̻͙͍̻̦̰̱̣̳͚̠̦̥̥̙̩̤̠̩̣̙̩̙̦̻̙̬̼̫̜͚̥͙̟̟͈̤͔̰̼̫͔̙̪̗̠͖̤͔͇̖̳̳͈̩͙̰̣̰̲̰̻̦̗̟̞̱͚͖̪͔̲͔͉͙̪͓̩̠͉̯̠͕̺̠̣̰͚͖̪̭̖̝̳̤́̅͛̋̂͐̌͜͜͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̸̨̨̨̡̡̢̧̨̨̨̨̢̛̛̛̮̘̼̪̯͉̳͓̻͎̣̪̣̠̗͉̥̰̝͉̤̲̮͍̘̱͕̘͓̺͇̞͖̩̞̗͚͕͖͙̯͍̙̖̦̙̺̞̪̱͍̥̙̼͉̳͇̘͉̞̲̘͔͕̥̳̦͔͓̭̤͓͈̟̩̣̣͕͕̜͈̩̬̖̙̭̼͓̦̝͙͔̲̜̦̰͙̹̼̤͕͈̣̳͕̼̺̯̫̟͓̠͚̟̺̙̪̝̠̣̗̭̻̯͖̺̩̩̜̟͕̱̤̞̱̠͓̝̩̹͚̦̖̥̘͈̝̙͕͚̲͂̇̒͌̓̎̄̀́͒̆̇͊̌̃́̔̈͋̆̅̈́̒̅͌́̉̅̍̾͒͛̐̄̋͑̈́̏̊̑̋̽͑̏̈́̅́̒̑̃͆̂̄̆̂̑̎̔̏̇̊̃̾͌̓̊͗̑̃̓̄͛͗̍͑̍̂̒̐̋̉̃̄͆̽̆̿̓̊͒̆͂̾̓̊͛̽̋͐̑͗͑̍̀̔̒̈̎́͛̉̋̓͐̾̒̈͂͑̀̉̾̓̅͗͐̂̃͋̾́̾̋̔̎̃͐͒̏̿͑̈̐̌͆̑͒̓͗͗͊̿̿͗͑̎͑̐̔͛͂̾̚̚͘̚̕̕̕͘̚̚̚͜͜͜͝͠͝͠͝͠͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅ ̶̧̧̢̡̡̢̨̨̧̧̧̡̨̧̢̢̢̛̱͉̪̲͎͈̩̖̪̺̺̪̳̲̪͔̞̖̲̳̙̪̼̥̪͎͕̳̘̜̙̞̪̬̰̗̯̗͉͖̗̳̰̱̯͓̱͙̖͙͎̰̗͍̗̖̼̗̩̝̞̱̘͇̻͈͓̦̲̺̗͚̳̝͖̣̺͖̬͓̱̯͎̟͕͕̣̰̠̦̲̳̼͔̹̭̲͎̰̤̹͙͉̙͕̦̰̘̜͕̥̖̗͚̜͈̗͕̩̹̬̫̟̫̺̮̯͇̞̝̲͕̼̩͕̤͚̯̖̦̻̠̩̟̤͚͚̠̥̬̪̟̥̣͓̖̰͓̠̩̫̳͓̳̪̱̼̲͉̻̙̗͈̺̣͕̪̟͈͖̝͎͈͍͉̝̪̮̤̠̞̬̲͉̮̟̪̙̮̘͔̫͓̤̀̑̓̒͛͐͋͋̀̎̏̾͂̓̊̆̀͐̽͗̑͋͊̏͋͑̽͐̈́̄͋̄̔̋́́̿͐̾̓̄̈͆̄̂̉̾̂̕̚͘̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̢̢̨̧̛̬̝̰͎̭̗̰̪͕̜̱͓̫̣̱̟̲̘̞̤̝̘̖͙̲̱̯̰̐̅̆̄̃̾̄̈́͆̒͑͒̐̄̂́͌̊̒̿̇́́̿̔͊̉͋͌̉͐͒̽̋̑͐̈́͂̊̿͒̍̾̅̃̏̐̋̇̈́̎̿̌̿̃̎̽̏͑͒̀̅͊͂́̂̐̎̒̎̌̎̎̋̀͌̃̎́͒̾̂̽͑͌̏̇͂̎͌͒̿̃̍͐̓̐͂͑͂͋̆̔̃̍̒͋̐͆̌̒̅̀͘̕̚͘͘̚̚͘͜͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅ ̵̡̧̢̡̨̨̡̡̧̨̢̡̡̡̡̟̩̣̞̼͕̬͍̫̪̠͕̜̰̭͕͙̭̹̥͓͔̼͈͍̯̖̜̠̳̥͔͖͕̭͖͕̬̳̘̰̞̹̜͖̱̩͉̣̣̞͎̦̫͙̬͍͈͍͈̝̞͇̲̪̰̮̘̲̠͙̙͔͙̣̞̳̟̗̙̯͕̘̤̰͚̮͔̼̬̳̞̺̻̪͚̗̝̜͍͈̫͈̖͔͚̗͕̟͛̽̓́̈́͂͊̒͌̌̉̂͐̈́͊̋͒̀́̀̃̀̋͐̓̈͊͗̄͂͑̇̀͂̑̽͊͛̂͒̏͒͛͑̾̒̎̇̈́̓̎́͑̂̓̑͌͑̎͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̡̡̨̧̢̧̧̨̡̡̢̡̢̨̧̨̛̛̛̠̬̪͇̝̰̖͈̩̘͙̬̹̪͚̭̤̝̲̫̠̫͕̦͕̙̘͈̦͎̮̠͙͍̭͖͕̞̫̹̙̩̼̖̝̮̹̩̰̩̩̬̣̮͔̺͙̹̣̖̩͈̥̲͕̯̬̳͕̝̫̠̥̫̙̹̟͉̦̖̠̬͇̰̹̮̘̯̮̟̰͕̠͍̮͎̤̦͕̯̦̞͙̻͓̗͍̦͔͇͇͚̩͎̺͈̼͖̤̤̥͚͉͍̹̖̠̹͚̩͎̝̠̳̬͍̯͚̘̙̹̰̜̥̘͎̤̫͈͇̘̲͕̯̺̳̟̫̯͕͙̗̠̦̟͇̤̺̦̩̘̥̜̠̼̤̮͕̞̗̲̻̯̮̦̠̮͖̗̼̤͂́̓̆̈́̎̽̂͗͋̄̓̓̂͐́͂̒̆̇̐̄̀̈́̂̓̏͗̑̈́́̆̋̐͐̈́̈́̉͐͛͗̈̍̀̂͆̈́̀̓͋͆̽́̒̅͊̄͌̇̌͗̏̏̈̂̓̊͂̊͗̑͐̇͋̄̇̈̎̌͗̌̊̎͑̿͑̉̾̏͌̇͆̇̇̉̎̾̃̓̆͑̍̃͌̅͌̉̓̀̋̂͊̊̑̆͊͊́̏͗͛͌̕̚̚̚̚͘̚̕͘̕͘̚̕̕̕͜͜͜͜͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̢̛̛̛̛̖̯̤̘̤͚̠̫̻̬͗́̿̔̐̀̈́̄̔̄́̓̾̒́̽͂́̅̾͑̊̐͒̅́̏̒̿͌͐̿̔͋̑͂̈́̔̈̀̓͋́͂̿́̅̋̓̾̾̇͗̆͋̄͆̈̏̓͋̿̇̿̎̉̒̉̎̇̍̊͐͌͛͌͑̃̈͊͛͗͐̿̇͊̇̈͊̇̔̉͆̑̌̾͊̽̍̊̇̀̂̅̀͊̈̊̔͆̅̇̆̅̌̐̄̏̂̐͒̽̾̉̾̓̆̄̏̏̿̎̆̌̋̄̊͑̽̅͒̅̐̎̆͐̑͌̒̽͂̔̈͊̃̎̇̑̆͊̏͂̎͛͛̂̓͆͒̋́̐̋̃̈̀̾̊͐͋̓̽̅̍͗͒͊̐̚̕͘̕̕͘̚͘͘̚̕͘̕͝͠͝͠͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝ ̷̧̢̢̡̨̢̨̢̨̢̡̢̨̨̢̡̡̛̘̹̥̘̦̹̖̙̫̬͎̬̙̦̥̠̦̮̜͕͙̬͚͈̦̱̠̟̠̝̱͖̦̥̯͕̲͈̥̻̻͉̲̭̗̞̪̹̺̝̯̖̖̘̭̞̜̖̗̗̮͙̱̦̤͉̼̥̮̙̭̪͉̭͍̟̺̜̫͓̩͖̥͔͕̤̘͙̥̟̘̥̲̟̱͚̗͈̭͍̲̠̯̦̳͔̲̣̪̮̺͙̞̘̤̫̟̬̘̣̱͕̆̐̎̿̎̒́̄̓̄̍̎̆͊͐̈́̂̀͐̒̍̀͗͌̍̅͗̐̎̈́̉͆̓͘͜͜͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̧̧̢̧̧̧̢̢̧̨̡̢̢̹͔̺̘͉̮̻̖̫̺̺͉̹̗̟̹͙͈̣͉͈̞͉̣̪̟͇̮̖̱̦͇̺̻̻̰͇͉͖̥̤̙̙̲̭͓͈̮̹̙͙̘̝͇̠͓͚͙̩͚͖̙̠͇̠̯̮̟̻͚̠̥̜̻͎̩̘̹͓͓̣̪̱͈͔̩̗̗̠͓̞̰̯̣̩̠̫̼͓̳͓̤͚̹̘͙̣͇̺̰̬͍͕̫̦̺̭̝̜̝̲̭̖̺̌͒̽̀͆̿̅̅͊̑̂̿̇̌͛̽̿͊͊̉̈́̂̾̔̈́̀̅͛́̒̄̊̾̔̐͋̏͐̆̈́̊̕͘͘͜͜͜͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅ ̵̧̡̡̡̨̨̨̢̨̧̡̡̡̨̡̨̨̧̨̢̧̢̢̢̛̛̞̲̜͖͖͕̰̟̺̖̭̤̣̺̼͉͓͙̲̯̪̹̬̜͎̖̭̫͇̦͍̖̪̩̲̝̹͉̱͈̩̲̱̫̺̬̭̰̼̖̻̮̦͍̳͚̝͕̻͚̻͍̹̣̠͉̤̮̯͍̙̩̦̳̭̜̟̙̰̣̦̟͕̙͓̞̫͈̬̯͔̱̤̰̘̻͔̘͓̻̤͚̩̱͔̘̝̠̖̺̟̠̯̘͍̩̻͓̰͍͈̠̙̦̬̮̯̱̙̤̰͔͓̘͙͎̻͙̼͈̥͔̖͉̲͙̩̞͙̦̩̻̺̜̼̝̮̖͎̮̱̹̯̰̼̤̥̙͍̖̗͖̫̮̠̙͓̟̱͔̳̮͓̮̬̪̳̰̰̹̪̤̣͖̃̇̅̇̏͗́̈́̃̓͗́̅̆̃͑̉͛͗́̌̽̂̈́̎̅͒͌͗͛̊̀̓̔̑̍͌̒̄́̌͊͌̐̄́̽̇̌̃͑́͒͆̊̔͆̒̄̆͒̑̒͂̑̈̒̋͒̎͛̿̆̄̊͛̾̓̇̄͌̍̿̃̏̉̊́̊͒̓̿́̾̇͆͌͑̐̒̾̊̏͒͋̋̆̊͛͊̓͘̚̕̚̚̚̚͘͘͘̚͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̨̛̛̛̮̱̟̂͂̏͑͒͌̍͂̃̈́́̂̇̏̉̋̂̄̍̅̎̈̄͗̿͂͐̿̿̅͐̎̓͒̽̍̉̀̒͋̈́̄͋̅̿̐̋̐̓̑͛͌̈̇̉̋̇̂̌̍͆̎̽͌̔̾̉̍̂̂͊̊̂̏͆̒̾̂̆̽͒̍͐̀͌̎̅͛̂̌͐̇͂͑̄́̓̍̐̅͗͌͐̿̽͊̀̊͆̃̿̄͒̃̀̈̍̊̊̉̏̊̏͒͗̔͛̑̐͛̂̉̄̔͑͊͌̓͂̄̆̄̿̃́͛̐̂̀͛̊̅̄̋̽̈̾̉̄̏͐͊͑̐̄̎́͗͑̌͆̈͆̽̔̎̉̈̋͑̾̾̾̐͘͘͘̚̚̕͘͘̕̕͘͘͜͝͝͝͝ ̷̡̢̡̢̨̢̡̧̢̨̡̨̢̧̧̢̨̧̡̛̜͕͚̜̪̺̠͈̖̳̬̺̬͙͓̪̬͎̭̪͔̫̭͖̜̥̜̥̱̲̰̗͖̙̜̩͇̼̝͎̗̗̼̟̤̩͚̙̯͇̖͔̹̪͎̝͔̼̗͇̼̯̰̤͉̥͇͇̞͖̣̮̫̜̬̦̘̲̝͎̬̠̪̬̞̫̠̠̘̘̼͎̺͉̳̺͎̭̣̲̥͚̘̺̥͇͇̭̫̝̪͉̹̥̠̭͎̼͇̼̪̲̰̰̳̙̖͍͈̪̰̲̬̙̤̭̗̹̣͖̼̻̣̪̻̼̮̪̳̠̖̫̼́̋̿̾͌̔̂̈̂̊̊̈́̍̔͆͒͒̒̏̍͗̊̃͗͌͊̆̒͆͋̐̈́͒̈́̈́̎̆͆͗̈̅̇͗͑͌̃̿̿̐̋͌͂̔͋̍̾͆̅̈̎͗̇̂͆͒̄̿̈̀̿̆̍̊̊͌̓̇̐̄͋̂̓̐̐̀̀͌̄̏͋̈̄̿͆́͒͒̌̂͌̑̂̐͛̇͌͂̅̓͒̾͛͐̇̒̒̚͘̚̕̕̕͘͘̚̕͘̚̕̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̡̨̧̡̧̨̨̧̢̡̡̧̛̛̛̲̦͔̟̫̫̬̝̣̜̙̟̤̪͖̺̣̤̩̳͎̪̥̫̱͙̯̥͓̯̠̗̻̖͚̦̳̪̣̘̼̜̤̺̙̠̲̭͓̬̰̱͓͖͚̹̫̬̤̘͚͖̠̩̖͓̜̩̭̪̥͕̦̪̰̘̭̹̟̼̯̗̦̗̣͍̱̣̹̞͇̱̳̘̙̟̝͍̮̺̱͙̺̟̞̟̝̩̞̯̲̘̣͕͇̪̬̬͚͔̦̯̮̳͎͉̲̮̬͇͍̫̙̟̟͕͔̘͇̹̭̳̦̰̥͓͇̝͇̪̼͓̘̩̺̺̲̥̺̤͉̰͍̖̻͔̝̖̙́́͐́́̏̿͗̍͊̔̇̽͒͆̊̏̅̌͒̈́̂̂̎͆̋̋̏͛̀̂̈́̀̔̄͗̃͆̾̔̔̽̐̊̄̓̊̾̏̓̏͋̔̂̓̇̌̔͌̈͂̿̄̎̾̂̍̆͋͋̋̓͛̂̉̅̊̉̋̆̑̐̆̿̿͆̓̌͐̃͑͋́͒̈̀̇͗̍̐̄̔̉̑̄͊̀̂̋̈͌͗̔͊͛̇͒̑̇̌̒͆̽͂̄͛̉͒̂̒̔͆̉͑͛͐͂͘͘͘̕̚̕̚̚̚̚̕͘͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̧̡̨̧̡̛̛̳̩̥̱̪̖͈̦͙̮̯̝̮̲̪̼̞͕̯̲̯͚̹͈̥̳̮̰̖̳̬̺̯̪̥̪̬͙̟͍͓̠̘̞̖̜̝̙̳̟̼͈̮̭̱̣͓͈͇͉͎̞͚̯̱̳̝̮̠̹̘͕̅̆͋̋̈́̈́̈̆̓͊̉́͆̑͑̀̊̂͒̄̑̂̊̍̂̈̏̄̈̋̌͒̋͂͛̊̃̌̿̏̀̽̈́̊̅̈́͌̒̌̎̌̔̾̑̉͛̑̇̎̅́͆̏̃̈̾̐̎͋̈͛̉̌͋̑̍̌͊̿͌̏̉̌͊̇̿̒͛̐̍͂̓̉̈̈͋̌̉̑̐̍̌̈̊̌͆̾̽͒͐̃͛͗̑͆̍̑̈̃͒̾͐̽̐͒̾͗͊̒̿̏͊̈̏̎̍̍͐̽̇̎̊̎̅͂̋̀̆͂͂͊̐̋̏̎̽̓̿̾̽̀̊̃͛̈̑̄̆͌͐̅͂͗͗̽̑̅͂̒̂͘̚͘͘̚̚͘̚̚̕̕̕̕̚̕̕͜͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝ͅͅ _

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_ ̵̧̡̧̨̢̢̛̛͙̞̣̳͎̭͖͉̺̟͔͙̦͈̺͖̥̮̪̱̤͓̠̜̯͇̬̫̫͙̞̠͎̘̭̥̭̼̘͎̜̪̣̗̻͖̘͓̳̳̩̞͚̻̰̫͚͚̟̠̥͔̟͇̤͖̾̾͊̈̈́͌͐̈́̍̽̃̈́̓̀̇̈́̋̾̓̈͋͆̆̀̓̈̒̃̇̀́͒̆̆͂̊̂̒̋́͗̐̓͛̇̐͋̓̔͊̔̀̔͆̊͘̕̕͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͠͝ _

 

 

_ ₥Ɽ----- ₲ⱧØɄⱠ Ⱨ₳Đ Ⱨł₴ ₳Ɽ₥₴ ₩Ɽ₳₱₱ɆĐ ₳ⱤØɄ₦Đ ₱Øł₴Ø₦'₴ ₩₳ł₴₮. ₱Øł₴Ø₦ ₴₳₮ Ø₦ Ø₦Ɇ Ø₣ ₮ⱧɆ Đł₦ɆⱤ'₴ ₮₳฿ⱠɆ₴ ₩ł₮Ⱨ Ⱨł₴ ⱠɆ₲₴ ĐⱤ₳₱ɆĐ ₳ⱤØɄ₦Đ ₲ⱧØɄⱠ. ₮ⱧɆɎ Ⱨ₳Đ ₮ⱧɆ ฿Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ⱤɆĐ ₴ł₦₲ⱠɆ ₲ⱧØɄⱠ Ⱨ₳Đ ₴₦₳₮₵ⱧɆĐ ₣ⱤØ₥ ₴ⱧØ₩ ₱Ø₦Ɏ ₩ⱧɆ₦ ₮ⱧɆɎ ₩ɆⱤɆ₦'₮ ⱠØØ₭ł₦₲ ₮ɄⱤ₦ɆĐ Ʉ₱ ₴Ø ⱠØɄĐ ł₮ ₣ɆⱠ₮ Ⱡł₭Ɇ Ⱨł₴ Ɇ₳Ɽ₴ ₩ɆⱤɆ ฿ⱠɆɆĐł₦₲. _

 

_ ₱Øł₴Ø₦ ₮ⱧⱤɆ₩ Ⱨł₴ ₳Ɽ₥₴ ₳ⱤØɄ₦Đ ₲ⱧØɄⱠ'₴ ₦Ɇ₵₭ ₳₦Đ ₱ɄⱠⱠɆĐ Ⱨł₥ ł₦ ₣ØⱤ ₳ ⱤØɄ₲Ⱨ ₭ł₴₴. ₲ⱧØɄⱠ ₴₥łⱤ₭ɆĐ ₳₲₳ł₦₴₮ ₱Øł₴Ø₦'₴ Ⱡł₱₴, ₮ⱧɆ₦ ØɄ₮ Ø₣ ₦Ø₩ⱧɆⱤɆ ⱧɆ ₣ɆⱠ₮ ₳ ₦ł₱ ₳₲₳ł₦₴₮ Ⱨł₴ ₮Ø₦₲ɄɆ. _

 

_ ₲ⱧØɄⱠ JɄ₥₱ɆĐ ฿₳₵₭, "ĐɄĐɆ! ₩Ⱨ₳₮ ₮ⱧɆ ₣Ʉ₵₭?" ⱧɆ ₴₱₳₮ ₩ł₮Ⱨ Ⱨł₴ ₮Ø₦₲ɄɆ Ⱨ₳₦₲ł₦₲ ØɄ₮ Ø₣ Ⱨł₴ ₥ØɄ₮Ⱨ. _

 

_ ₱Øł₴Ø₦ JɄ₥₱ɆĐ ĐØ₩₦ ₣ⱤØ₥ ₮ⱧɆ ₮₳฿ⱠɆ, Ⱡ₳Ʉ₲Ⱨł₦₲. "JɄ₴₮ Ⱨ₳Vł₦₲ ₣Ʉ₦," ⱧɆ ĐⱤ₳₩ⱠɆĐ ₳₴ ⱧɆ ₴₮Ɇ₱₱ɆĐ ₮Ø₩₳ⱤĐ₴ ₲ⱧØɄⱠ.  _

 

_ ₲ⱧØɄⱠ ₴ⱧØØ₭ Ⱨł₴ ⱧɆ₳Đ ₳₴ ⱧɆ ₱ɄⱠⱠɆĐ ₱Øł₴Ø₦ ł₦ ₣ØⱤ ₳₦Ø₮ⱧɆⱤ ₭ł₴₴, "₣Ʉ₵₭ ɎØɄ," ⱧɆ ₲ł₲₲ⱠɆĐ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ₮ⱧɆłⱤ Ⱡł₱₴ ₵Ⱡ₳₴ⱧɆĐ ₮Ø₲Ɇ₮ⱧɆⱤ. _

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

 

_ Exterminator Mikey spun him around so Mr. Iero was staring right at his eyes. But exterminator Mikey wasn’t exterminator Mikey. _

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

_ Ⱨł₴ ₳₴₴ⱧØⱠɆ Ⱨ₳łⱤ₵Ʉ₮ ₳₦Đ ₩₳Ɏ ₮ØØ ฿ⱠɆ₳₵ⱧɆĐ ฿ⱠɆ₳₵ⱧɆĐ Ⱨ₳łⱤ ₥ɆⱠ₮ɆĐ ₳₩₳Ɏ ₳₦Đ ł₦ ł₮₴ ₱Ⱡ₳₵Ɇ ₩₳₴ ₳ Ⱨ₳łⱤ₵Ʉ₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₩₳₴ ₳₵₮Ʉ₳ⱠⱠɎ ₱ⱤɆ₮₮Ɏ ฿₳Đ₳₴₴. ł₮ ₩₳₴ ₴Ⱨ₳VɆĐ Ø₦ ฿Ø₮Ⱨ ₴łĐɆ₴ ₩ⱧɆⱤɆ ł₮ ₩₳₴ ₭Ɇ₱₮ ₳ ₥łӾ Ø₣ ĐłⱤ₮Ɏ ฿ⱠØ₦ĐɆ ₳₦Đ ฿ⱤØ₩₦. ₮ⱧɆ ⱤɆ₴₮ Ø₣ Ⱨł₴ Ⱨ₳łⱤ ₩₳₴ ₴ⱧØⱤ₮ ₲ⱤɆ₳₴Ɏ ₴₮Ɽ₳₦Đ₴ ĐɎɆĐ ₦Ø₮ ₳₴₴ⱧØⱠɆ ฿ⱠØ₦ĐɆ ฿Ʉ₮ ₦Ø₮ ฿ⱠØ₦ĐɆ ฿ⱠØ₦ĐɆ Ⱡł₭Ɇ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ Ⱨ₳₱₱Ɏ ₥ɆĐłɄ₥ Ø₣ ɎɆⱠⱠØ₩. ⱧɆ Ⱨ₳Đ Ø₦ ₳ ฿Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ⱤɆĐ ɎɆⱠⱠØ₩ J₳₵₭Ɇ₮ ₳₦Đ ฿Ⱡ₳₵₭ JɆ₳₦₴. ₳₦Đ Ⱨł₴ ɆɎɆ₴ ₩ɆⱤɆ ₣₳₥łⱠł₳Ɽ ₣ØØĐ-₱Øł₴Ø₦ł₦₲ Ɽ₳ł₦฿Ø₩ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₥Ɽ. łɆⱤØ Ⱨ₳Đ ₴ɆɆ₦ Ø₦ⱠɎ Ø₦Ɇ ₥ØⱤɆ ₮ł₥Ɇ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ. _

_ ̶̧̢̡̡̧̛̛̛̛̠͔̤̺͍̤̬̹̗͈͍͓̻̙̭̣̻͍̰̳͓̹̦̪̣̰̫̖͙̤̰͔̘̝̻͖̙͉̻̝̦̳̭̜̜͍̦̳̘̩̦̞͓̲͍̤͈̳̼̙̫̗̺̠͓̩̼̌͆͒͒̎̊̌͌͐̐͗̈̈́̏̎̒̔̎̄͗̈́̀̈́̅̒̓́̊͒̀̆̏͗͛͑̽̋͑̔͐̒͌̄̔̀̒̃̓̉̔̉̉̇̽̒̄͒͆̀̈́̿̅́̃̔̌̏͊́̿̀̀̄͒̇̑̽̒́̐͗͒́̾̃̈̓͂͋̏͋́̔͊͒͛͆̒͒͂͌͒̊̈̄̐̆͆̎̃̀̌̀̔̎͊̇̒̉͋̈̔̄̿͋̐̎̉̊́̔͋́̋̍̀̔͐̒͛̔͗͊͒͒̀̉́̓̿̉̍̃̃͊̉͂̋̒̉͑͘̕͘̕̕̚̕̕̕̕͘̚͘̕͜͠͠͠͠͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅ ̶̡̡̨̧̢̧̡̡̧̢̧̢̨̧̢̨̡̡̨̛̛̛̱͈͎͔̯͔̤̮͚̭̘̲̖̙̫̭̗͖̥̣̝̯͕̬̤͕͈̘͍̣̯̺̘͎̣͚̭͈̪̞̞̤̭͉̭̥̫͙͕̻̺͕͓̬̦̪̺͇͚͓̲͚̙͓̤̞̟̮̭̤͓͓̗̮͇͙͎̜͎̳͇̮̙̝̮̗̣̩̼̳̬̹̤̺̦̮̝̰̯̝͙̥͓͈̥̼͖̤̗͕̯̱̱̺̻̱͈̬͙̲̥̤̫̘̘͖̬̞͎̞̳̖̝̘̭̠̮̣͓͍͉̩̤̰̟͉̖̟̝̠̪͕̪̯̯͇̳̞̬̱̭̰̭̪̬̬͎͙̰̤͕͚̣̝̲̼̠̙̖͖̫̰̭̙̻̯̻̳͖̙̣̯̺̮͕̯̼̤̙͙̗̝͉̙͈͇͇̪̺̠̪̗̠͉̹͖̲̪̖̯̜̤̊̆͒̈́̀͛̍̔̈͛̀̊͂̑͑̌̔̅͐̇̾͒̊̇͂̿̉̐̆͛̈́͛͋͑̊̒́͂̂̉̍̇͑̍́̌̀͌̒̆̈́̔͊̅́̔͌͂̐͊̅̈̏͆̉̎̓̎̎̒̾̌̂̄̊͐̾͛̒̎͆̂́̒̌̐̏̈̋̊̽̔̅̽̿̈̌͂́̋̔͋͊͒̌͒́̆̌̉͊̽̿͛͌̓̏̈̔̄̔͋̂̋̑̂̌̊̑͛̍͛̀͆̿́̾̅̓͌͋͒̊͊̋̾͋͆̿̍͑͌̐̃̒̎̉̕̕̚̕̚̚̚̕͘̕̚̕̕̕̚̕͘͘̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̸̧̧̢̧̡̧̢̡̛̛̛̛̛̮̘͙̱͔̣͚͎͎̬͎͉̦̝͖̹̪̗̥̦̝̦͎͚͉͈̥̟̹̜̭̗̞̘̫̪̼̼̹̲̳̞̦̦̻͉̫̩͉̥̜͕͔͍͉̣͎̖̣̤̝͎̦͓͍̯̺̲̼̦͉̩̪̥̘̝̳̦͉̟̩̙̠͉̱͕̘̬̣̙͔̥͈̥͙͇̬͓̗͖̫̟̣̯̹̺͙͔͇̖̺͈͚̥͎͍̝̘̟͙̺̞̻̯͓̠̹͉̫̳̖̦̪̜̬͇̖̯͔͍̟̮̞̻͎̫͈͚̯̳̜̩͖̪̭̥̭̺̍͆̂͆̿̿̉̀̀̎̆̅̌̅̇̽͆͛͆̊̓͒̇̉͗̒̏̉̇̈͑̾̂̑̅̆͑̄̅͆̐́̏̌͛̈́͒̓̃̂͆͆̔́͐͋̀̓͑̅̿̆̏͋̎̈̎̀̄̎́̌̋̊̉̀͋̿̈͗̅̑͊̊̈̔̅̌̐̒͛̿̾̎̔͋̇̂̑̒͗̌̈̐͆͌̑̅̄̿̑͋͒͆̎̽̎̉̀͋͋̉̓͂̍͂̂͊̎̊͑͛̒̔̾̉͌̄͒͊̒̐̄͗̈͛̅̑̂͂̾̔̆̄̿̎͌͗͑̋̔̿̉̈̀̅̐̎͂͑̈͒͒͗̍͑̆́̑̎̿̆̆͂̿̍͛̅̔̉̚̕̕͘̕̚͘͘͘͘̚̚̚̚̕̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̢̧̢̨̢̨̧̨̡̡̢͉̫̖̝̤̲̺̘̞̬͈̯̣̮̮̣̙͓̲̝̦͈̭̜͉̻̬̘͔̠̘̞͍̭̝͈͍̟̬̖̥̼̬͉̪̯̖͔̰̥̜̞̬̲̤͍̣̭̠̫͚̳̟̩̜̼̪͇͎̘̬͚͎͇͓̭̼̪̪͈̬̫̱̹̘̹̞̩̰͔͍̟͈̹̯̬̆͛̓̈̄̍̆͑̿͒̃̔̾̒̆̀̊̉̍̎̅̆̂̀́͌̊̉̏̏̽̒͊̒̑͊͆̾͋̍̋͋̆̈́̏̈͊̾̋̌͛́̚̕͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅ ̷̧̧̧̨̨̢̧̡̨̢̨̢̨̡̢̢̢̡̢̡̨̨̢̨̨̨̡̛͍̪͚̟͚̠̜̻͉̤̪̯̘͓̟̳̭͙̪͕̬̩̫̭̞̻͔̮̦͍̺̯͕̣̙̘̫͉̼͇̼̗̲̟̪̳̟̣̣̰̮̙͍̺͎̬̖̠̜̬̗̲͎̝̱͚̳̫͚̺͔̘͇͚͚̤̣̩̬̖͓̭̭̜̺̭̦̹͓̩̝̤̞̦͔͇̼̝̣̞̤̦̗̯̲̪̰̬̰̬̬̰͈̞̻̟̫̳͉̩̱̭͕͙͈͕͙̗̳͔̤̭̩̮̜̬̺̝̙͉̼̭̜̥̖̠͖̤̬̩̞̙̩͉̙̯͇̲̪͎̹͔̤̝͔̝͓̟̥̫̗̺͎͍̳̪̹̯̮̬̙̪̥̺̖̳̦̠̯̭̆͋̄̿̀̊̄̌̋̔̇̋̒̎͗̃͗̂̊͌͗͂̈́̓͐́̀̅̊̓̾̐̄͌̈̈͐̊͐̀̐͑̈́́̽̈͌̎͊́̒̎̓̿̒̅͆̑̆͆́̋̀̍̋̃͒̔̂̋̒̅̎̃͘̚̕̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̨̧̡̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̣̟̬̖͓͓͚̳͖̳͖̖̭̻̙̞͎̥͙̯͉̪͍͓̮̬̫̹̗͔͖̫̟̲͙̠͓͓̰̠̫͕͇̄͊͊̀̈̒̑͒̊͊͑̋̌̈̍͒́̎̄̌̉͒͒̇̑̂͛̏̓̏̽̔̍̊̈̓̒̐̈́̅͛̎̔͌̿̎̿͗͒͂̂̇͒́̉̐͂̒̂̌̎̌͒̓͋͆̿̓̈̇̑͒̑̅͗͋̇͗͐̔̽́̍̎̂̽̋̌̌͐̇̏͆͂̋͊̅̐̅͗̃͌̂̿̒͐͑̀̒̀̅͋͛̊͂̌̂̒̀́̓̍͒͊̿̂̋̄͐̎̄̄͆̇͑͒̃̌̍̒̀̊̒͛̎̋̌͊̐͊̄̑͑̊͐͆̂̚̕̚͘̕̚͘̕͘̕͘̕̚͘̚͜͠͠͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝ͅ ̶̧̡̢̧̡̢̨̡̢̡̨̧̡̞̞͖͈͈͚̟̩͉̼͔͈̦̭̦̪̭̝͍̯͚̳̟̩̰͙̰͚̟̠͙̣̣͎͓͎̮̣̱͙̯͍̝̲̫̻̲͙͉͎͇̖͖͉͚͖̪̠̺̰͚̩̝̫̥̤̳̜̘̱̣̤̪̰͓̬̲͔͔̦͖͎͈͔̲̳̦̱̜̱̳͚̳͈̭̥̠̲͖̏͂̎̇̉̃͊̃̑̈́̄́͌̆͐̓̍̋́̇̀̓̍̈͋̈́̾̈́͌̐̿͗̈́́̆͆̓̌͐͗̏̎͋̿̄̊̂̐͊͗͘̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅ ̵̡̨̡̢̧̢̡̡̨̢̨̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̭͖̲̼̮̹͉̪͓̜̙̲͍͍̮̣̥͎̬̩̭̟̱̗̩̬̲̩͙̪͓̺̻̣̗̖̜̺̼̟̯̣̳̮̲̭̗̫̰͉͎̟͈̱̩̟̹̞̙̮̘̱̬͕̼͍̤͖̺̟͕͇̻̮͔͖͓̜̳̫̭̺̪̳͇̼̩͉͖̭̙̗̬̘̥̳͙̼̞̜̝̺̖͔͇͉̩̥͓̯̬̙̤̖̲̩͈̱̮͎̫̮̤̬̝͓͙̙̹̠̻͙̭̣͚̭͕̜̪͎̣̙̜͉̺̖͚̻̮͓̟̯̜̜͛͑̾̀͒͋̅̓̽͂̾̆͂͗̈̉͆̌̆̃̓̾̊̔̌̋̔͆̈̓̈́̈́̇̍̔̑͑͊̋̌̐̈́̓́̿̓̽́̆̒͐̔̒̐͐̂̌̾̇͊͆̃́̔̄̿̅̔̓̾̄̿͋̓͂̾̏̐͗̐̉̐̀̾͌̿̌̄́͊͌̔̉͊͌̏͊͋̄̎̃͋̋͗̔̓̍̉̿̋̆̏̔̽̆̾̒̃̂͋͂̽̋̿̂̍̃̌̾̈͑͒̏̇̀̀̽͒͑͌̉̑͒̑̄̍̏̐͂͂̉̋̿̄̓͋̒̄͛̆̒̄̐͛̍̑̿̊̆̅̈̅͛͒͘̕̕͘̕̕̕͘͘̕͘̚̕͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̢̢̡̡̨̢̨̢̡̧̛̛̛͔̘̜̟͉͚̱̦̲̘͓̬͇̭̙̥̰̹͖̠̠̠͉͙̤̞̤͇̯̝̤̜͚͕̦̯̖͔̙͙̫͖̺͇̮̟̤̰̤̝̭̰̬̟̩̺̥̺̥̥͚͇̦̝̳̼̤̥̥̥̩͕̘̲̻̝̠̲͇͎̭̬͙̩͖̺̗͔̙̳̖̪͓͖̝̲̱͇̖̫̍̈́̋̅͛͂͊̔͌̒̉̈͆̂̌͒͒̈́̈́̿̿̅̀̐̏̾̍̾̃͑̀̍̌͂̑͊̑̓͊̔̐̇̏͂̈́́̍͋̔̽̿̇̅̅͐̑̆̄̏̎͗̑͛̅͒̈̄̎̃̑͆͗̌̑̇͋̾̐̓̽̌͌̂͆͐̇̊͗̏͑͆̿̋̏̎͊̎̋͊͒͒̋̏̔́͗̄͋̇̀́͗̓̂̾̇̽̂͘̚̚͘̕̚̚͘̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅͅ ̶̨̨̢̧̨̧̨̨̧̧̧̢̛̛̪͙̱͍̱͙̥̯̞̫̣͈͉͇̟͓̜̲̫̼̼̱͔̹̼̪̥̫͎͈͔̠͇͍̹͓͉̪̮̮̺̻͉͕̲͉͖͙̦̫̥̝̬͙͚̻̹̰̠̯̳̮̳̗̗̰̰̱͍̜̹̻̪̲̩̲̗͙̱̖̞̞͉̗͎̘̹̮̲̼̱̙͕̝̼̤̳͚̝̻̮͉̜̭̣̪͎̮̳̰͇̩̲̾̌̋̀́̍̔̂͑́̄̄̄͗̀͆͛̊̀̊̊̏̿̈́̆̎̔̇̓̈́̈́̅͋̏͂͂͐͐͌̀̎́̆͌͋̈́͐̓̅́̍́̓̾́͋̾̃͊͗̃̌̈̊̽̄̂̔̿̅̋̎̓̊͒̃̇̀̅̒̂̔̐̿͂̍͋̓͌̓̆̓̎̔̍͑͂̃̌̃̃͆̈̂͆͂̎̐̀̋̈̃̂̃̅̄͆̽͑̾̊̓͗̀̏͋̍̽͑̒̄̓̉̓͐̈͆̒́̔̋̃̚̕͘̚͘̚͘͘͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̧̢̧̡̨̧̡̡̛̛̛̛̟̰͈̺͍̠͖̝̪͎̰͙̩͍̤̭̼͚̮̹̪̱̩̜͇̟͉̱̠͇̙̞̺͇͙̺̘͕̗̱̗̹̰̯͔͔̘̣̟̰̰̱͈͍͖̠̙͉̥͈̣̮̩̗͚̱̭̼̮̥͍̖͍͍̱̱̼̼͓̬͍͎̞̦̺͇̠̪̪̤̯̯̯̖̦̩͚̺̖̖͖̮̘̼̳̬̲̟̞͍̝̰͕̜̥̰͉̯͔̮̹̞̝̫͇͔̥͖̳͓̖̥͍̣̹͚͈̤̭͖̟̿̓̉̓͛̓́͊̈́̔̇̀̓́͛̔̄̄̂͛͌͐̉̃̈̿̀̀͛͗̏͒̀̀̆̆͒͊̌̽̎́̈́̈́͂͂̑̿͑̉̇̈́̆͋̊͛͆̃̀͑͛̊̋͂̌̌́̓́͒͐̍́͂̉͆̑̽͋͆̽͋̉͒̊͒͂̑̊͗̑̿̉̆̿̈͆̌̿̀̓̾̾̐̏̽̽̑̓͛̿̏̽̐̊͒̾̓̆̈͛̌́̋̊̽̄̑̐͊̇͌̆̽̊̀̍̚͘̚̕̕͘͜͜͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͝ͅ ̶̧̢̧̢̨̢̧̧̨̧̨̡̧̡̢̛̛̟̼͖̻̟̯̘̳͙̜͇͈̖̤̬͍̲̫̱̠̪̺͕̣̖̞͍̙̤̱̯͓͖̻̗̝̥̜̗̭͎̥͓̖͚̰͉̰̳͎͙̭̺̻̩͈̬͎̠̩̳̭̞͖̠̭̻̗̹͈̫͖̹̱͇̜̬͉͓̟̯̪̬̠̺̰̻̘̬̦̙̫̲̖̝̣̬̖̫̖͍͇̳̳̻̝̭͉̣̱͈̝̯͚̭̣̤̱̫̖͙̺̠̠̞̩̺̮͖̮͔̉̋̑̀̈́̔̈́̀̽̆̎͒͐̄̾̏̈́̑̀̌̍͗̇̌̈̂̌̌͛̂̑́̓̓̍̅͑̈́́͋̊́̊̄̋̚͘̚͘͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͠͠ͅͅ ̴̡̡̢̢̨̨̨̢̡̨̨̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̭̖̪̹̞͉̲̦͚͇̯̟͇̭̟̤̗̰͓̭̝͈͍̙̦̜̬̗̹͍̪̫̖͍̲͇̱̬̘̖̻̠̘͉̺͚̲͕̞̩̻͓̺̦͎̠̙̜̫̦̯̬͉̱͖̝̰̠̦̝͔̞̤̙̥͚͇̻̜̰͍̜̹̭̭̫͍̬̯͉͓̘̫̠̯̻͓̱̩͓̘͖̬͙̥̦̙̼̖̪̖͓̼͍̳̦̙̜̗̩̲̟̗̘͇͙͕̤̫͎͙̲͙̠̭̪̘̥̦̣͇̞̤͓̞̖̦̙͍͚͙̬̥̯̫͍͖͖̞̝̞̫̦̘͚̘̱̝͓̫͇̪̗͇̝̼̲͓͎̰̗͍̬̩̰͔̞͌̀̀̑̿̑̑̅͗̌̐̍̓͊̎͑̃̎͆͋͂̉͐́̈́͆̊̓̇̌̓̇̈́͌̋͆͛̾͂́̎̽͑̀̋̾̈́̿̃͆͊̓͂̍̆̊̆̓̂̋̾̾̉͗͗͑͑̔̎̽̊̏̎͑́̉̍̅̃̊̅͛͆̽̓̍͒̋͆̓͑̏̓̌͑͛̃̽͒̒̆͌̔̊̀̇̄̓̈̊́̿͗̈̽͒̽̾̿́̾̍͂̄͊͋̆͊͐͊̑͐̔́͗͒̄̍̊̔̇̐͊͆̂̏̆̃̔̋́̾͗͂̂͒̆͊̎́̽̃̐͌͛̓̅͌̑̄̌͂̆͊͒̚̕͘͘͘̚͘͘̚͘̚͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͠͠͠͝͝ ̶̧̧̡̢̢̢̧̨̡̨̨̢̧̨̧̡̢̢̡̡̨̢̨̨̡̡̛̙̞̮͉̟͉̮̪̘͈͈̩͖̮̠͙͓̳̘̜̻͇̗̘̫̘̹̺̹͍͍̩͇̩̣̜͙̣͔̼̗̳̳̳̥̱̞͉̮̩̺̼͔̖̯̗̱̝̬̪̦͚̻͓̞͉̼̬͓͍̪̖̖̜̙͉̠̠̰̗̥͕̼̗̘̫̰͔̤͍̟̗̞͇̭̬̺̖͇̪̣̥̜̳̝͎̥͎̜̩͈̦̺͇̤̫̜̱̪̲͓̻͓̞͎̖͓̪̰͇̗̥̹̗̫̟͍̝̠̫̻͕̥̟̦͔̜͔͎͙̟̙̤͉͖̻͙̦̬̪̙͍̜͚̠̘̯̪͇̝̙͔̠̻̙͚̙̻̪̜̠̞̘̤̝̳͕̘̖̘̰̦͙͍̜͎̜̗̱͓̯̲͓̑͋̉̑̓̊̈́̈́̈́̑̍̑͂̾̇̍̄͂̈͂̈́̐̒̏̏̈̽̾́̇̍̏̆̽̐̆̊̍̇͊͆́̊͐̃͐̎̇̈́́̂͑̅̽̋̽̈̈̏́̽̇̈̽̑͑̒͋̈̓͐̄͒̀̔̓͘̕̚͘̚͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̧̧̡̡̧̢̡̨̛̛̰͖̩͖̯̭̳̦̳̼̥̲̤͖͖̥͍̩̹̟͖͇͙͍̦̠̩̳̤̜͕̣̱͚͔̟̬̯̮͈͉̪̱̗͇̭̞͍̠͓̘͖͎̼̹̺̻͉̱͓̦̜̟̼͈̼̮̤̭̱̩͓̺̼͌̈́̃̍̂̓̉̓͊̾̏̊̒̀̒́̈̀̌̉͛́̈̀̾̒̏̓̃̔̿̓̋̊̒̒͊́̓̕̕͜͜͝͝ͅ ̴̢̢̨̧̡̛̛̛̛̼͕̘̥͈̘͓̬̥̪͇̩̜̹̬̜̻̰͙̫͇̠̜͔̲͇̮̩̩̩͓̲̭̙̙̬̭̜̞̙͎̘̺̖̳̪̣̗͇͈͚̺̪̖͎̼̱͉͇̘̻̖͈̤̝̩͈̭͓̬̤͎͎͎̳͉͓͓̱̩̎̋̀̃͋̿̉̿̏̇̃̑̉̎̈́̿̇̑͒͗̔̅̉͒̋̔͋̎͋͊̐͐̈̀͊͒͛̔͊̋̒͘̕̕͘͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅ ̵̨̧̡̧̡̢̢̧̧̧̧̡̨̨̘͈͉̗̖̻̗̭̼̞͕̞̬̜̘̹̻̬͖̘͎̭͉̙͇̦͖̪͎̟̦̬͎̠̥̯̫̖̦̤̭̮͓͎̜̩̱͙̮̠̦͙̭̤͉̘̰̱̙͉̗͖̭̺̮͔͚͌̂͋͐͌̅̀̅̉͊̈̕͜͝ͅͅ ̷̢̨̢̧̡̢̧̧̧̧̢̨̢̢̧̛̛̹͉͔͇̳͙͍̱͎̩͎̬̖̦̻̹̼̹̪̙͍͓̪̘͖̟͇̘̖͔̖̱̝͔͙̯̣͕̜̬̞̺̻̙͍̘̼͖͎̹̱̗̙̫̥̥͇̙̭̝̦͈͇̦̺̼̗̻̰̦̖̜̩͎̘̬̩̱̯̘̤̲̼̥̝̞̦̼̟̩̟̝͚̣̺̰̼̣͈̤̱̳͓͖̙̤̝̘̻̦͔̖̞͓͈̫̲̣̿͆̍̈́̌̓͒̆͌̆̈́͐̏͒̃̀̾̂̈̂̉̌̋̋̂̽̀͌̐̈́͛͛̿̎̍̊̃̀̋͌͛̽̋̊͑̅̓̄̀̓̇̃͗̾̽́͂̎̃̏̒͂̌̏͘̕̚̕̚͜͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅ ̴̧̨̧̨̧̨̡̛͕̜̩̝̼̟̯̬͚̳̠̬͓̲̜̰̙̫̯̠̯͍̞͚̤̣̺̙̳̖̪̭͔̙̝̼̙͉̪̹̲͖̠̻͙̤͎͖͎̹͕̹̟͕̼̘̭͓̺̥̰̹͓͚̹̤͎͙͍͔̼̲̂̓̔̀͒̅͋̌̔̀́̅̃̆̓̍̑͂̒͗̊͋͆̈́̀̏̒̽͊̽̍̊̆̓͑̉̂̓̇̈́̽̀́̅̊̀̅̋͑̽̌̇́̑͛̎̂̐̃̽̏͒̇̂̎̒͂̒̔͆͋̋̊̽͂̏͂͌̏̌̒̚̕͘̕͘̕̚͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͠ͅͅ ̸̢̧̢̡̨̡̧̢̡̨̨̢̡̡̧̨̨̧̡̨̡̡̨̧̧̡̛̛̛̛̲̞̙̳͉̞͍̘͈̯͚̤̦̞̺͎͉̗̰̙̱̻̦̝̫͕̟͕̟̫̘̦̘͈͈̮̯̰̹͇̪̜̖̹̣̞̪̳̗̦͈̭̯͕̘̟̙̗͙̯̯̼̝̟̺̥̙̞̤̫͓̤̥͍̼̮̹̤̩̟͍̭̹͍̻̩͕̻̺͔̼͇̫̹̝̦̞͉̯͙̘̥͓̰̜̣̪̣̘̼̮̦͕̱̦̯̰̹̣͚͕͍̪̙̯̞͕̥̗͎͚̟̮̯͔͖̭̫̝̣͙͎̱͈̜͇̞͈̱̖̻͔̳͈̳̳̝̤̬̖̝̭̱̜̟͔̬̙̘̜͖̱̘̟̖̤̺̻͉̣͈͍̹͖̥͖̱̈́̓͒͌͊̆͗͂̉͌́͆̐͒̅̈́̑̍̋̓̀̃̊͗̐̿́̑͐͆͌͑̀̅̏̀́͒̍͋̄́͂̈͂͒́̌̀̓̏̀̀͑͑̏̓̀͊̊̈̌̎͊̈̅̌́͊̔́̅͊̌͊́̊̏̿̊̑̈͋̌̔̽̄̔̐̍͌̍͆̿̈̽̀̈̓͆̃̂͋͌͂́̀͒̄̒̌͑͗̿͂̔̏̂̂͑̉̎̌̉̇̊͆̃́͂̒̄̾̒͋͂̔̐̍̎͘͘̕̕̕͘͘̕͘͜͜͝͝͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̸̡̨̧̧̢̢̢̧̨̨̧̨̧̢̧̨̛̛̛̛̛̛̪̼̱͎̠͕͈̭̦̙̱̜̣̥͚̗̤̥̲͖̭̦͖̖̥̘̠̻̤̮̤̮͚̱̻̲̩̖̣͔̥̬͖̫̮͖̜̭̤̝̜̰̹͎̥̯̖̖̣̖̼̥͍͙͚͇̱̣͈͓̟͇̪̰̣̘̼̙͖͎̼̺̝̤̪͈̠̯̺̹̻̩͈̝͎̮̲̙͉̱̰͖͎̻̱̲̭̫͇̟̞̜͉̮͎͖͉̱̣̦̳̪͖̱̣̞̫̙̞̰̗̝̥̰͇̹̭̦͈̗̼͖̖̰̱̠̻̥̱̙̒́̀̽̄̿̏̿́̊͂͑̎́̓͐̀̐̌̇̏̊̊̈͑̉̏̀̾̋̑̌̿͂̓͊͗̓̊͛̈́̈̅̑̓̿͛̓͒̉̒̄͑͋͌̂̏͋͂͗̉̈̀́̄̆̀̔̊̂̒͗͐̒̒̎͊͌́̿́̑̎͛̃̇͆̾̌̈̈͛̈̌̅̍̍̃̓̅̀͆̽͒̏̏̿̄͊̄̃̍͊̀̉͌̉́̂̓́̆́̅͘̚͘͘͘͘̕͘͘͘̚͘͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̨̧̧̛̛̥̱̭͍͕̺̪̯͎̥͖̪̘̭̥͓̘̼̦̭̦͓̳̣̼͚̰̱͉͈͙̥̗̤͚̝͕̗̪͙̺̖̲̬̠̠̠̺̤͔̬̤̭̰̾̀̑͛̾̓̄̈́̃̽̀̊̇̈́̈́̿͗̂͒͌͐̀̈́̕̚͘͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅ ̶̨̧̧̡̧̨̧̢̡̡̢̧̨̢̧̨̧̧̛̛̛̤̫̞̝͎͉̻̼̣̱̝̲͈̗͕̭͓̳̖͇̗̰͉̠̻͙̱̱͈͇͕͓̩͈̺̹̟̫͙̯̞̬͚̣̞̱̟̮̜̻͔̞̟̣͎̱̻͎̖̪͕̘͖̱̬̮̥̲̬̠̟̻̣̯̭͖̙̯̬̖͓̝̙̰̣͚̻͍͖͕͉̜̗̩̯̗̹̪̲̹͍̯̝̦̯̩̖̻͙̳̞̘̯̣̲̥̘̩͕̝͔̫̪̬̩͍̩̘̝̻̰̜̞̼̟̟̲̲̹͍̺̤̪̹̟̰͙̞̹̰͎̝̂͆̀̓͋̃̇̈́̿͛̑̀̎͊͋̔̒̇̈́͗̇́͑̒̅̂͋̑̈̈́́͂́͂̀͊́̃̽͌̓̾͗̌̒͗́̽̍͋̈̐͛̍̆̏̅̆̋̄̍̄̈̍̇̓̿͊͗͗̒̎̊̀̅͛̒̔̿̊̃͛̄͒͐̀̃̇̄͒̉͊̒̽̔̐̽̉̕̕̚͘͘̚̚̚͘̕̕͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͠͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̵̢̨̧̧̡̨̨̡̧̨̛̛̛̛̝̱̜̤̣̼͕̮͖͇̪̺̳̮͎̺̰̳̺̠̣͓̟͖͎̟̟̮̙̥̘͇̰̥̠̜̰̝͓̩̯̹̥̥̼̮̞͔̪̼̘̲̩͇͉̗͖̲̙͓̲̹͙̘̭̬̩̥͕̻̙̱̭̳͎̯̝͍̣̩̻͕̘̭̫͋̿̀́́́͐͐̃̈́͂̃͂̃̄̆̽̊̆̾͒͂͆̀͒́͆̅̔̅̈́̽̆̈́̋̋̿̊̏͊̆̎́̿͆̌̿̃͛͐͒̊̿̈͂̉̐̋̄̏̅͐͆͐͌̃̑͆̀̃̒̎̔̉̔͂̍̅͒͐̋͒̉͗̈̏̃̂̎͆̀̒̑̓̔̄̚̕͘͘͘̕̕̚̚͘͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅ ̵̧̛̛̛̛͉̬̭̯̘̖̖͗̅͂͂̿͐̃̆͛̆͐̓͒̀͗̇̿͐̐͒͂̒̈̽̐͆̂͆͌̽̇̉̑͆͌̅͒̒̈́̑̀̓̔̏̿̒̀̐̐̾̿̀̍͐̈̀̾̇̉̐͋̀̽̎̇̾̿͂̂̐̂́͌̾̑̀͒͗̽̓̂̑̔͋̃̑͑̂̊̊̒̅̃̃̿͘͘̚͘͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝ ̷̨̢̡̧̢̡̨̧̢̧̨̨̢̢̧̨̧̨̧̧̧̡̡̛̛̗̙̼̟̺̟̗̮͓̯̘͍͓͕͔͙̟͕̦̱̣̪̹̫͚̠͔̱̭̠̱̮̞̼͕̹̠̺͍̖̦̱̻̱̦̺̮̞͚̭͖̪͉̣͇̪̝̙̭̰̣͎͕͈̜̰͕̩̣̙̠̲̫̩̱͔̤̰̘̻͍̳̲̝̙̙͕̫͇̲̤̲̖̘̪̼̥̭̳͖̳̮̥̜̠͚̫̲̥̗̳̭̞̜̥͇̪̹̹̺͕͙͎̻̞͓̝͔̗͓̗̪̳͖̞̯͍̳̯̪͕̤̹̤͚͚̳͕͙͖̜͉̺̥̠̳͙̭͓̻̻͓͙͚͔̪͖̩͉̣̗̥̗̠̳̗͍̫͚̰̟̱̖̬̼̈̒̄̓̌̉̏̽̐̏̇̄̌͐̔́̈́̑̋̓͛̐͛̎̋̈́͛̇̃͐͆̒̌̑̔̏̓̃̊̉̓̓́͆̑̆̒͑̍͗͊͐͌͛̀̊͗̌̍̎̓̿̇̄̾͌̄̄̌̉̂̀͋̎̏̌̈͒͌͂̽̇̍̆͑͗̀̉͗̐̿̑̍̈̓͛̇̋͗̽̏̊͌̈̒͋̆̊̕̕̕͘͘̕͘̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅ ̸̨̢̢̧̢̢̨̧̧̨̡̛̛̛̞̻̱̫̭̭̹͕̟̞͍̦͇̰͙̗͇̟̥̙͔̹̘̰̯̙͕̠̺͉̳̞̼̹̳͇̲̭͇̯̤͍͎̝̭̠͔̞̖̖̭̻̞̙̖̰̮̹͍̥̲̱̱͓̣̩̣̻̫͔̥͉̖̩͇̰̫̭̬̣͈̫̞̺̭̩̩̤̫̤̳͍̬̥̦͕̖̬̮͕͍̗̞̘̠̤͕̮̜̼͍̣͔̟̠̪͔̺̱̗̻̙͇̩̣̗̬͚̮͍͎̪̮͙̩͕̟͚̙̗͇̮̜̝̦̲̙̣̻̯̦̗̝͓͚͍̥̗̠̤͔̙̗͚͖͎̙͚̦̠̓̐̀̃̈̽̽͋̀̒̃́̃̊͐̽́̐̓͛̒̇̄͗͊͆́̒̓́̿̐̉̋̈́̌̀̅̀͌̋͌̍͗́͗̄̽̾̀̇̇́͋̃̆͑̑͐͊̍͛͒̀͂̌͛̾̍͒̽̽͑͛̿͂̍̄͋͗̽̿̔́͐̓̄̾͊́̾̌̎̌̅́͗͌̀̾́̃̉͂̎̉͂̉͗͌̽̂̾̽̎̾̋̓̓͋͒̌͐͌̄̍̄͒̒̔̾͒̅̏͆̆̍͐̇̌̑́̉͗͒̅̾̽͛͛͆̉̑̽͌̔͗̋̉̔̽̔̄̾̅̒̀̀͌͌̏̈̅̀͘̕̕̕͘̚͘͘͘̕̚̕͘͘̕͜͜͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅ ̸̡̢̢̧̨̡̧̛̛̛̛̛̯̹͔̖̲͈͉̠̱̦͙̞̠̣͍̜͕͇̘̻̖͈̯̝̺̹͍͚̜͚͇̘͕̘̻̥̬̝̥͚̼̬̝̳͙͙̤̫̳̥̜̱̰̞̣̻̦̪̱̓̏̋̉̏͑̋͂̄̀̈́̔̌͂̔̅̑̏̀̔͑̆̋̓̋̏̋͛̈́̉͊̒̀̋̋̽͑̈́͑̾̌̓̈́̽̽͊̄͌̒̒͑̊̑̔̅̌̽̊̀̑̃̽̅̔͋̈̋̔̇͌̄̿̉̄̆̽͋̽̐̉̈̏̒̄̊̔̎͊̀͌͆͗̊̋͋͐͒̽̀̏̀͆̈̔͒̽̅̏́̓̎̽͗͌͛̉͂͋͑̑͒͌̂̐̾͌̒̄͊̑̂͆̋̀̒̃̽͑̆̌͌̊̌̾̏͌͆̾̆͌̑̚͘̚͘͘̚̚͘͘̚͘̕͘̚̕͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅ ̶̧̡̨̢̡̧̢̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̦͙̲̼̞͇͕̗̖̞̳̖̩͉̩͔͎̭̯̣̩̠̖̹̺̦͖̞̥̦̲̻̪͇̭̟͚͖̤̮͚̰̺͖̼̫̞̝̹̩̖̫̖͔̣̲͔͙̣̹͕̯̫̪̜̭̹͉̺͉̮̤̭͚͍̦̦͈͔̞̜͖̣̳̫͓̳̮͉̫̞̖̞̲͕̞̭̗̰̺̠̹͔̱̳͖̦̻̜̥̫͓̥̗̤̫̈́̌̀̿̔́̓̇̂̈́̿̈̒̈́̈́̔̄̓́̿̀̀͌͑̅́̐͗̄̉̈́́́̏͆̈́͛̀͊̔̍̆̑͊͑͆͛̐͛͗̑̏̍̂̀͒͐͑͊̓̋̎̀̈̂̂̀͑̔͛̀͐̂̓̑̑͋̔̋́̓̌̃͛̊͛͆͗̾͆̆̄͂͛̏̎̎͛̅͌͐͒̐͊̋͗̐͊͛̄̓̄͌̇̂͊̏͒̒͑͆̃̌̊͊͋̔͂́͗̒͊̑̒̕͘̚͘͘͘͘͘̕̕͘̕̚̕̕̚͘͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅ ̷̢̢̡̨̧̨̡̧̧̡̡̢̧̡̨̢̡̛̛͉͉̰̳̦͉̝̟̫̲͔̩͔̱͚̣͚̪͍͔̮̱̦͇͉͚͔̱̹͖̰̼͙̥̤̙͇̪̭̝̫͈͉̼̠̺̲̺̖͉̹̬̖̹̖̥͕̞̖͕̼̠̜͎̜̣͔̞̩͇̮̣̘͓͇̻̙̟̱̞̥̯̥̙̙̭͓̼̟̟̝͕̫̥̦͖̺̩̭̬̦̤͓̥̳͚̖̹̩̮͓̘͍͓͈͙͉̖̝͓̦͖̩͇͙̪̦͚̞̹̞̞̳̮̼͚̙̙̠̪͍̹̘̭̮̘̰̹̝͈̃̄̿͊̿̐̾̈͐̀̄͑̾̓̓́̈́̏͆̀̂̇̋̅̈́̎̑͛͌̋́̃̉̐͐̔́̉̇̇̉̒̎̈́̀̾͊̒̌̋̑̀́̍̃̏̎͂͐͗̒̔͗̿̉̾̃̋̾͋̔̊̎͒͑͒͆͊͂̆̒͛͗̿̾̽͌̔̿̿̾̚̚̕͘̕̚̕̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̸̧̢̨̧̡̢̢̡̧̡̢̢̡̡̢̧̡̢̢̡̢̨̛͈͕̭̬̟̞͓̱̰͔̤͈̼͓̯̝͔͉̮̗̙̩̙̣̦̖͙̤̙̜̫̟̪̖̻͙̝͎͎̲̰̬̜͇̖̭͇̘͖̫͎͕̝̝̳̣̰͓͎͕͙̺͖̗̘̦͈̩̝̦̘̦̱̱̲̬̙̗̖̳̺͇̪͓̯̤̹͇͈̹̮̪̦̦͕̙̠̝͉̺̩̲͙̫̳̪̯̳̙̜̯̝̹̫̩͙͈̘̫͔͖̦̠͍͍͖͈͈̲͍̗̣̝̩̲̝̻̻̠͉͓̻̗͕̞͍̯̯͈̞̺̻̯͙͖̖͎̣̝̜̟͍̗̥̼͇̻̙̳͍̹̹̫̝̖͖͇͚̤̼̲̟̯̰͛̏̀̈͆͂̏̉̆̒́͂̊̂͊̈́́̋̈̒͑̇̋̓͊̽̌́͗̑̊̽͐̀͛̔͘͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̡̡̧̧̧̢̧̡̡̨̡̧̨̡̢̨̢̧̨̢̜͓̣͍͔̜̝̱̱̼̣̭̤͕̼̣̗͖̙͇̦͈̳͎̺͈̠̣̺̼͕̙͙̞̩̻̜̩̪̪̖̫̩͎͚̼̜͉̬͕̻̗͔̩͖̖͓̝̘̦̞̩̞̯̟͚̘̟̤͕̻̺̦̳̬̮̘̫̻̰̩̞̲͚͖̜̫̝͔̫̤̤̞̺̱̥͕̬̰̪͙͓̳͓͔̻͙͍̻̦̰̱̣̳͚̠̦̥̥̙̩̤̠̩̣̙̩̙̦̻̙̬̼̫̜͚̥͙̟̟͈̤͔̰̼̫͔̙̪̗̠͖̤͔͇̖̳̳͈̩͙̰̣̰̲̰̻̦̗̟̞̱͚͖̪͔̲͔͉͙̪͓̩̠͉̯̠͕̺̠̣̰͚͖̪̭̖̝̳̤́̅͛̋̂͐̌͜͜͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̸̨̨̨̡̡̢̧̨̨̨̨̢̛̛̛̮̘̼̪̯͉̳͓̻͎̣̪̣̠̗͉̥̰̝͉̤̲̮͍̘̱͕̘͓̺͇̞͖̩̞̗͚͕͖͙̯͍̙̖̦̙̺̞̪̱͍̥̙̼͉̳͇̘͉̞̲̘͔͕̥̳̦͔͓̭̤͓͈̟̩̣̣͕͕̜͈̩̬̖̙̭̼͓̦̝͙͔̲̜̦̰͙̹̼̤͕͈̣̳͕̼̺̯̫̟͓̠͚̟̺̙̪̝̠̣̗̭̻̯͖̺̩̩̜̟͕̱̤̞̱̠͓̝̩̹͚̦̖̥̘͈̝̙͕͚̲͂̇̒͌̓̎̄̀́͒̆̇͊̌̃́̔̈͋̆̅̈́̒̅͌́̉̅̍̾͒͛̐̄̋͑̈́̏̊̑̋̽͑̏̈́̅́̒̑̃͆̂̄̆̂̑̎̔̏̇̊̃̾͌̓̊͗̑̃̓̄͛͗̍͑̍̂̒̐̋̉̃̄͆̽̆̿̓̊͒̆͂̾̓̊͛̽̋͐̑͗͑̍̀̔̒̈̎́͛̉̋̓͐̾̒̈͂͑̀̉̾̓̅͗͐̂̃͋̾́̾̋̔̎̃͐͒̏̿͑̈̐̌͆̑͒̓͗͗͊̿̿͗͑̎͑̐̔͛͂̾̚̚͘̚̕̕̕͘̚̚̚͜͜͜͝͠͝͠͝͠͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅ ̶̧̧̢̡̡̢̨̨̧̧̧̡̨̧̢̢̢̛̱͉̪̲͎͈̩̖̪̺̺̪̳̲̪͔̞̖̲̳̙̪̼̥̪͎͕̳̘̜̙̞̪̬̰̗̯̗͉͖̗̳̰̱̯͓̱͙̖͙͎̰̗͍̗̖̼̗̩̝̞̱̘͇̻͈͓̦̲̺̗͚̳̝͖̣̺͖̬͓̱̯͎̟͕͕̣̰̠̦̲̳̼͔̹̭̲͎̰̤̹͙͉̙͕̦̰̘̜͕̥̖̗͚̜͈̗͕̩̹̬̫̟̫̺̮̯͇̞̝̲͕̼̩͕̤͚̯̖̦̻̠̩̟̤͚͚̠̥̬̪̟̥̣͓̖̰͓̠̩̫̳͓̳̪̱̼̲͉̻̙̗͈̺̣͕̪̟͈͖̝͎͈͍͉̝̪̮̤̠̞̬̲͉̮̟̪̙̮̘͔̫͓̤̀̑̓̒͛͐͋͋̀̎̏̾͂̓̊̆̀͐̽͗̑͋͊̏͋͑̽͐̈́̄͋̄̔̋́́̿͐̾̓̄̈͆̄̂̉̾̂̕̚͘̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̢̢̨̧̛̬̝̰͎̭̗̰̪͕̜̱͓̫̣̱̟̲̘̞̤̝̘̖͙̲̱̯̰̐̅̆̄̃̾̄̈́͆̒͑͒̐̄̂́͌̊̒̿̇́́̿̔͊̉͋͌̉͐͒̽̋̑͐̈́͂̊̿͒̍̾̅̃̏̐̋̇̈́̎̿̌̿̃̎̽̏͑͒̀̅͊͂́̂̐̎̒̎̌̎̎̋̀͌̃̎́͒̾̂̽͑͌̏̇͂̎͌͒̿̃̍͐̓̐͂͑͂͋̆̔̃̍̒͋̐͆̌̒̅̀͘̕̚͘͘̚̚͘͜͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅ ̵̡̧̢̡̨̨̡̡̧̨̢̡̡̡̡̟̩̣̞̼͕̬͍̫̪̠͕̜̰̭͕͙̭̹̥͓͔̼͈͍̯̖̜̠̳̥͔͖͕̭͖͕̬̳̘̰̞̹̜͖̱̩͉̣̣̞͎̦̫͙̬͍͈͍͈̝̞͇̲̪̰̮̘̲̠͙̙͔͙̣̞̳̟̗̙̯͕̘̤̰͚̮͔̼̬̳̞̺̻̪͚̗̝̜͍͈̫͈̖͔͚̗͕̟͛̽̓́̈́͂͊̒͌̌̉̂͐̈́͊̋͒̀́̀̃̀̋͐̓̈͊͗̄͂͑̇̀͂̑̽͊͛̂͒̏͒͛͑̾̒̎̇̈́̓̎́͑̂̓̑͌͑̎͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̡̡̨̧̢̧̧̨̡̡̢̡̢̨̧̨̛̛̛̠̬̪͇̝̰̖͈̩̘͙̬̹̪͚̭̤̝̲̫̠̫͕̦͕̙̘͈̦͎̮̠͙͍̭͖͕̞̫̹̙̩̼̖̝̮̹̩̰̩̩̬̣̮͔̺͙̹̣̖̩͈̥̲͕̯̬̳͕̝̫̠̥̫̙̹̟͉̦̖̠̬͇̰̹̮̘̯̮̟̰͕̠͍̮͎̤̦͕̯̦̞͙̻͓̗͍̦͔͇͇͚̩͎̺͈̼͖̤̤̥͚͉͍̹̖̠̹͚̩͎̝̠̳̬͍̯͚̘̙̹̰̜̥̘͎̤̫͈͇̘̲͕̯̺̳̟̫̯͕͙̗̠̦̟͇̤̺̦̩̘̥̜̠̼̤̮͕̞̗̲̻̯̮̦̠̮͖̗̼̤͂́̓̆̈́̎̽̂͗͋̄̓̓̂͐́͂̒̆̇̐̄̀̈́̂̓̏͗̑̈́́̆̋̐͐̈́̈́̉͐͛͗̈̍̀̂͆̈́̀̓͋͆̽́̒̅͊̄͌̇̌͗̏̏̈̂̓̊͂̊͗̑͐̇͋̄̇̈̎̌͗̌̊̎͑̿͑̉̾̏͌̇͆̇̇̉̎̾̃̓̆͑̍̃͌̅͌̉̓̀̋̂͊̊̑̆͊͊́̏͗͛͌̕̚̚̚̚͘̚̕͘̕͘̚̕̕̕͜͜͜͜͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̢̛̛̛̛̖̯̤̘̤͚̠̫̻̬͗́̿̔̐̀̈́̄̔̄́̓̾̒́̽͂́̅̾͑̊̐͒̅́̏̒̿͌͐̿̔͋̑͂̈́̔̈̀̓͋́͂̿́̅̋̓̾̾̇͗̆͋̄͆̈̏̓͋̿̇̿̎̉̒̉̎̇̍̊͐͌͛͌͑̃̈͊͛͗͐̿̇͊̇̈͊̇̔̉͆̑̌̾͊̽̍̊̇̀̂̅̀͊̈̊̔͆̅̇̆̅̌̐̄̏̂̐͒̽̾̉̾̓̆̄̏̏̿̎̆̌̋̄̊͑̽̅͒̅̐̎̆͐̑͌̒̽͂̔̈͊̃̎̇̑̆͊̏͂̎͛͛̂̓͆͒̋́̐̋̃̈̀̾̊͐͋̓̽̅̍͗͒͊̐̚̕͘̕̕͘̚͘͘̚̕͘̕͝͠͝͠͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝ ̷̧̢̢̡̨̢̨̢̨̢̡̢̨̨̢̡̡̛̘̹̥̘̦̹̖̙̫̬͎̬̙̦̥̠̦̮̜͕͙̬͚͈̦̱̠̟̠̝̱͖̦̥̯͕̲͈̥̻̻͉̲̭̗̞̪̹̺̝̯̖̖̘̭̞̜̖̗̗̮͙̱̦̤͉̼̥̮̙̭̪͉̭͍̟̺̜̫͓̩͖̥͔͕̤̘͙̥̟̘̥̲̟̱͚̗͈̭͍̲̠̯̦̳͔̲̣̪̮̺͙̞̘̤̫̟̬̘̣̱͕̆̐̎̿̎̒́̄̓̄̍̎̆͊͐̈́̂̀͐̒̍̀͗͌̍̅͗̐̎̈́̉͆̓͘͜͜͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̧̧̢̧̧̧̢̢̧̨̡̢̢̹͔̺̘͉̮̻̖̫̺̺͉̹̗̟̹͙͈̣͉͈̞͉̣̪̟͇̮̖̱̦͇̺̻̻̰͇͉͖̥̤̙̙̲̭͓͈̮̹̙͙̘̝͇̠͓͚͙̩͚͖̙̠͇̠̯̮̟̻͚̠̥̜̻͎̩̘̹͓͓̣̪̱͈͔̩̗̗̠͓̞̰̯̣̩̠̫̼͓̳͓̤͚̹̘͙̣͇̺̰̬͍͕̫̦̺̭̝̜̝̲̭̖̺̌͒̽̀͆̿̅̅͊̑̂̿̇̌͛̽̿͊͊̉̈́̂̾̔̈́̀̅͛́̒̄̊̾̔̐͋̏͐̆̈́̊̕͘͘͜͜͜͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅ ̵̧̡̡̡̨̨̨̢̨̧̡̡̡̨̡̨̨̧̨̢̧̢̢̢̛̛̞̲̜͖͖͕̰̟̺̖̭̤̣̺̼͉͓͙̲̯̪̹̬̜͎̖̭̫͇̦͍̖̪̩̲̝̹͉̱͈̩̲̱̫̺̬̭̰̼̖̻̮̦͍̳͚̝͕̻͚̻͍̹̣̠͉̤̮̯͍̙̩̦̳̭̜̟̙̰̣̦̟͕̙͓̞̫͈̬̯͔̱̤̰̘̻͔̘͓̻̤͚̩̱͔̘̝̠̖̺̟̠̯̘͍̩̻͓̰͍͈̠̙̦̬̮̯̱̙̤̰͔͓̘͙͎̻͙̼͈̥͔̖͉̲͙̩̞͙̦̩̻̺̜̼̝̮̖͎̮̱̹̯̰̼̤̥̙͍̖̗͖̫̮̠̙͓̟̱͔̳̮͓̮̬̪̳̰̰̹̪̤̣͖̃̇̅̇̏͗́̈́̃̓͗́̅̆̃͑̉͛͗́̌̽̂̈́̎̅͒͌͗͛̊̀̓̔̑̍͌̒̄́̌͊͌̐̄́̽̇̌̃͑́͒͆̊̔͆̒̄̆͒̑̒͂̑̈̒̋͒̎͛̿̆̄̊͛̾̓̇̄͌̍̿̃̏̉̊́̊͒̓̿́̾̇͆͌͑̐̒̾̊̏͒͋̋̆̊͛͊̓͘̚̕̚̚̚̚͘͘͘̚͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̨̛̛̛̮̱̟̂͂̏͑͒͌̍͂̃̈́́̂̇̏̉̋̂̄̍̅̎̈̄͗̿͂͐̿̿̅͐̎̓͒̽̍̉̀̒͋̈́̄͋̅̿̐̋̐̓̑͛͌̈̇̉̋̇̂̌̍͆̎̽͌̔̾̉̍̂̂͊̊̂̏͆̒̾̂̆̽͒̍͐̀͌̎̅͛̂̌͐̇͂͑̄́̓̍̐̅͗͌͐̿̽͊̀̊͆̃̿̄͒̃̀̈̍̊̊̉̏̊̏͒͗̔͛̑̐͛̂̉̄̔͑͊͌̓͂̄̆̄̿̃́͛̐̂̀͛̊̅̄̋̽̈̾̉̄̏͐͊͑̐̄̎́͗͑̌͆̈͆̽̔̎̉̈̋͑̾̾̾̐͘͘͘̚̚̕͘͘̕̕͘͘͜͝͝͝͝ ̷̡̢̡̢̨̢̡̧̢̨̡̨̢̧̧̢̨̧̡̛̜͕͚̜̪̺̠͈̖̳̬̺̬͙͓̪̬͎̭̪͔̫̭͖̜̥̜̥̱̲̰̗͖̙̜̩͇̼̝͎̗̗̼̟̤̩͚̙̯͇̖͔̹̪͎̝͔̼̗͇̼̯̰̤͉̥͇͇̞͖̣̮̫̜̬̦̘̲̝͎̬̠̪̬̞̫̠̠̘̘̼͎̺͉̳̺͎̭̣̲̥͚̘̺̥͇͇̭̫̝̪͉̹̥̠̭͎̼͇̼̪̲̰̰̳̙̖͍͈̪̰̲̬̙̤̭̗̹̣͖̼̻̣̪̻̼̮̪̳̠̖̫̼́̋̿̾͌̔̂̈̂̊̊̈́̍̔͆͒͒̒̏̍͗̊̃͗͌͊̆̒͆͋̐̈́͒̈́̈́̎̆͆͗̈̅̇͗͑͌̃̿̿̐̋͌͂̔͋̍̾͆̅̈̎͗̇̂͆͒̄̿̈̀̿̆̍̊̊͌̓̇̐̄͋̂̓̐̐̀̀͌̄̏͋̈̄̿͆́͒͒̌̂͌̑̂̐͛̇͌͂̅̓͒̾͛͐̇̒̒̚͘̚̕̕̕͘͘̚̕͘̚̕̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̡̨̧̡̧̨̨̧̢̡̡̧̛̛̛̲̦͔̟̫̫̬̝̣̜̙̟̤̪͖̺̣̤̩̳͎̪̥̫̱͙̯̥͓̯̠̗̻̖͚̦̳̪̣̘̼̜̤̺̙̠̲̭͓̬̰̱͓͖͚̹̫̬̤̘͚͖̠̩̖͓̜̩̭̪̥͕̦̪̰̘̭̹̟̼̯̗̦̗̣͍̱̣̹̞͇̱̳̘̙̟̝͍̮̺̱͙̺̟̞̟̝̩̞̯̲̘̣͕͇̪̬̬͚͔̦̯̮̳͎͉̲̮̬͇͍̫̙̟̟͕͔̘͇̹̭̳̦̰̥͓͇̝͇̪̼͓̘̩̺̺̲̥̺̤͉̰͍̖̻͔̝̖̙́́͐́́̏̿͗̍͊̔̇̽͒͆̊̏̅̌͒̈́̂̂̎͆̋̋̏͛̀̂̈́̀̔̄͗̃͆̾̔̔̽̐̊̄̓̊̾̏̓̏͋̔̂̓̇̌̔͌̈͂̿̄̎̾̂̍̆͋͋̋̓͛̂̉̅̊̉̋̆̑̐̆̿̿͆̓̌͐̃͑͋́͒̈̀̇͗̍̐̄̔̉̑̄͊̀̂̋̈͌͗̔͊͛̇͒̑̇̌̒͆̽͂̄͛̉͒̂̒̔͆̉͑͛͐͂͘͘͘̕̚̕̚̚̚̚̕͘͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̧̡̨̧̡̛̛̳̩̥̱̪̖͈̦͙̮̯̝̮̲̪̼̞͕̯̲̯͚̹͈̥̳̮̰̖̳̬̺̯̪̥̪̬͙̟͍͓̠̘̞̖̜̝̙̳̟̼͈̮̭̱̣͓͈͇͉͎̞͚̯̱̳̝̮̠̹̘͕̅̆͋̋̈́̈́̈̆̓͊̉́͆̑͑̀̊̂͒̄̑̂̊̍̂̈̏̄̈̋̌͒̋͂͛̊̃̌̿̏̀̽̈́̊̅̈́͌̒̌̎̌̔̾̑̉͛̑̇̎̅́͆̏̃̈̾̐̎͋̈͛̉̌͋̑̍̌͊̿͌̏̉̌͊̇̿̒͛̐̍͂̓̉̈̈͋̌̉̑̐̍̌̈̊̌͆̾̽͒͐̃͛͗̑͆̍̑̈̃͒̾͐̽̐͒̾͗͊̒̿̏͊̈̏̎̍̍͐̽̇̎̊̎̅͂̋̀̆͂͂͊̐̋̏̎̽̓̿̾̽̀̊̃͛̈̑̄̆͌͐̅͂͗͗̽̑̅͂̒̂͘̚͘͘̚̚͘̚̚̕̕̕̕̚̕̕͜͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝ͅͅ _

_ _

_ ̵̧̡̧̨̢̢̛̛͙̞̣̳͎̭͖͉̺̟͔͙̦͈̺͖̥̮̪̱̤͓̠̜̯͇̬̫̫͙̞̠͎̘̭̥̭̼̘͎̜̪̣̗̻͖̘͓̳̳̩̞͚̻̰̫͚͚̟̠̥͔̟͇̤͖̾̾͊̈̈́͌͐̈́̍̽̃̈́̓̀̇̈́̋̾̓̈͋͆̆̀̓̈̒̃̇̀́͒̆̆͂̊̂̒̋́͗̐̓͛̇̐͋̓̔͊̔̀̔͆̊͘̕̕͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͠͝ _

 

_ “Kobra…” Mr. Iero breathed. _

 

_ Poison flinched at the name as tears welled in his eyes. He knew it was true and he hated himself for it. _

 

_ No, he didn’t hate himself. _

 

_ He hated whatever was doing this to him and whoever else he cared about. _

 

_ And what was about to happen made Poison hate them even worst. _

 

_ d̴ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ _

_ _

_ ̴̨̨̛̻̲̟̪̞͉̹̼̗͙̖̈̔̆̉͆̑̒́͋̔̐̕͠͝█̸̧̡̨̠̱̣͔̘̝̜̦͓̬̻̟̮̭̰̙̞̪̳̮͍̀̌̒̓̋̓́͌͆̿͗́̃̌͗̌͋̇̎̿̔̆̊͘̚͜͠͠͝█̴̧̡̛͕͕̘̗̭̫̟̺͍͓̬̪̠̬̥̯̩̟̭͖̲̯̈́͌̍͋̑̓̀̀͋͛̔̈́̎͋̐͂̀̀̏͘͜͜͝ͅ█̴̨̨̛̺͔̟̫̮̱̖͈̯̙͉͔̰̹̍̍͆̀̌̀̌͝█̵̢̣̫͖̝̰̦̹̮̺͖̝̞̙̖̞̟͙͍͇̜͔͒͛͐̄̋̀̓͌̿̃̀͊̾̌̿̃͘̚͜͝█̵̡̺̲̝̙̗̝͉̯̯͚̚̚█̶͉̂̍̈͒█̷̨̢̛̞̲̳͚͓̝̲̪͙̊͛̿̈́͐̓̄͌̾́̍͗́̅̐̾̃̎͗̐͘͘͘͠█̶̧̨̢̛͓̘͍̻̯̦̲̥̞̠̩̬̦͗͒̌͒̈́̓͋̽͛́̋̌̐̐̃̿͒̑̋͋̉̿͌̉̐͠͝█̷̛̝̦̓̏͗́̀͂͋͌͛͑́̽͐͊̾̈́̈́̽͌̏̾̚͝͝͝█̸̨̧̢̪̟̺̺̺̤̮͉̭̫͕͙̥̯̬̦̏͗͊͋̑͐̊͒̍͒͋͘̚͜͠█̵̡̗͖͍̥̣̐͛̾̾͋̈͌͒͒̄̂̇̈́̚͝█̴̢̨̡̳̪̦̞̞̞̜̱͙̦͙͙̫͓̟͍͍̳̪͈͎̙͕͎̈́̎̅̈́͜͜█̴̡̢̼̰͔̝̻͇̫̘͓̪̤̰̫̆̇̓̉͐̎͝͝͝█̶̧̣̖̿̿̏̊̎̅͊͊̚͝█̸̡̢̧̛͈̻̝̰̙̮͖͓̏̀͑̈́̑̅̽͋̇̓̑͗͛̈̾͆͒͒̎̇̋̓͊͛̒͗̕͜█̶̞̘̣͕̹̞͈͓̲̖͕̙͍̰͓͕̼̀́͗͒̒̄̆̇͋̈͒̉̏̄͗͂͐͗͒̇͑̕̚̕͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅ█̵̢͉͇̰̱͈̯̏̆̔̆͑͐̇͛̈́̈͆̓̍͘̚ͅ█̴̧̨̨̗̠̦͖͉̹͍̫̘̣̦̠̦̞̞̫̜̤̪͚̠̤̈͛̄͜͝ͅ█̸̲̹̏͌͐͊̈́̽̊͛̇̎̄͒̏̐́̈́͗͌̽̀̽█̵̡̡̢̛̱͉͙̝̦̻̱̤̜͙͉̼͉̭̦͚̪̭̘͍͉̪̟͍̒̈͆͐̈͑̄͜͜͠█̶̛͙̤͇̲̾̌́͋̐̆͑̿̔̑̀̋̐̉̋̕͘͝͠█̶̛̛͍̬̥̯̼̼͇͎͇̰̬̬͎̳͕̫͙̙͆͂̍̋̓̓̀͛̑̉͑̈́̚̚͜█̷̢͇̱͎͉̣͓̹͉̮͉̹̫͓͌̃̈́̿͂̂̔̿̓̍̐̊̏̓̇̍͊͐̍̾̕̕͠͠͠͝█̴͔̼̗̦̟̻̟̥̗̝͍̹̺̪͙̦̞̦͚̱̼̪̽̈̾̽́͆̆́́̂͘͝█̵̨̧̰͖̯͍̟̙̰͍̟̹̯͕̙̙̫̬̖̪̮͍͓̯̪̬̩̲̐͌̏͑̄̔͋̃̉͋̀̑͗͑̅̽̈́̍͗̏̐̉͑̈́̌̐͒͜͝͠█̸̡̨̻̳͇̮͖̹̮̮̝͓̩̺̜͉͓̫̩̙̻̝͍̥̆͘͜͝ͅ█̶̡̛͇̺̣͙̭̯̲͇͕̺͓͓͕̘̘͕͔͗̍̓̓̐̇͒͋̈́͐͑̃͋̎̀͆̄̉̀̿̌̚̚̚̕͠ͅ█̶̨̨͈͉̫̲͙͕̦̮̻͓͇́͐͑͐͑͗̈́́́̄̆̽̃̑ͅͅ█̷͉̉͐̀̇͂͊͋̆̀̍̓̎͠█̸̠̼̖̫̮̦̤͔̬̼̞̻̍̆̊̎̒̆͒̔͋͊͌̿̽̆̑ _

_ ̶̨̡̫̣̞͓͓̗̫͇͎̝̫̖̄̍̽̀͒̓͐́͒͋͒̐̇̈́̂̈̄̾̎̇̂͂͘͘͜͝█̵̨̛̞̻̤͓̫̯͉͚̺̲͎̮̺͚͓̣͍͗͑̓̾̇̓̓̿͜͜█̴̛͈̙̲̤̦͒͐̓̿͊̋͊̀̎̓̓́͠͠͝█̵̡͚͎͓̞̳̪͛̋̆̑͑̋̎́̿̈́͛̇͋̌̿͝͝█̶̞̞̜̱̰͔̔̒͐̊̾̅̾̾͘̚█̷̡͇̦̟̓̉̒̀̌̓̀ͅ█̴̢͉͇̪͎͎̖͙͔̙͔͇͓̳̠̠͔̗̣͐͌̇͑̉̐̈́̋̀̓̊̕͜█̶̝̼̜̀̀̄̀̃̍́̋̇̉͋̈́̚̚͝█̷̡͙̝̹̰̘͉̬̘̅͋̆̑͛̃̀̑ͅ█̴̢̡̗̙̪̰̭̤̗̻̺̮̲͎̈́̎̅͑̀͛͛͋͂͗̓̏̃͋̕͘͜█̸̢̢̯̻̰̩̻̙̹͈̣̗̖̪͙̈́̿̽̑̓͆͑́̒̔͗̀̈͊͌̈́̈̚͠͠͝█̵̢̡̣̝̙̯͚̼̙̬̻̘͖͓͈̫͈̞̩͖̭͈͙̠͔̟̩̹̍͑̀̇͗̈́̍͗̈́́͋̅́̿͂͝͝ _

_ ̵̨̩̠͕̝͈͖̞͙̹̳͕̮̺̽͌̆̈́́̾͘͘͠ _

 

 

_ E̷x̶t̵e̴r̷m̷i̴n̴a̷t̷o̷r̷ ̶W̵a̸y̵’̴s̴ ̷e̵m̶o̴t̸i̸o̴n̸l̷e̸s̴s̸ ̵f̴e̴a̸t̵u̴r̴e̵s̶ ̵h̵a̷r̸d̴e̸n̸e̶d̴ ̵i̶n̵t̷o̷ ̵s̵t̷o̵n̸e̷,̸ ̸t̷h̶e̵ ̷c̷o̷l̵o̷r̶s̸ ̸i̸n̴ ̴h̷i̶s̴ ̵e̷y̸e̶s̷ ̸s̶e̸e̴m̴e̸d̴ ̴t̵o̴ ̷s̴h̵i̷f̴t̸ ̶f̶r̸o̷m̶ ̴a̵ ̸n̷a̸t̶u̸r̷a̸l̶ ̷f̷o̵o̵d̴ ̴p̸o̸i̶s̴o̵n̸i̷n̴g̵ ̷r̷a̶i̷n̸b̴o̵w̵ ̶t̷o̸ ̷a̴ ̸d̶a̸r̴k̸ ̵s̸h̴a̶d̷e̷ ̸o̵f̸ ̷g̸r̸a̶y̵ ̷a̶n̸d̴ ̸b̷r̸o̴w̵n̴.̸ ̵“̵W̸h̴a̷t̶ ̸d̸i̸d̸ ̷y̷o̷u̴ ̸j̷u̵s̶t̷ ̷c̸a̸l̷l̸ ̶m̴e̶?̷”̸ ̷h̶e̶ ̵g̶r̸o̵w̶l̸e̸d̷ ̴a̷s̶ ̷h̸i̸s̵ ̶f̸i̷n̵g̵e̷r̶s̸ ̸w̶r̵a̴p̵p̴e̷d̷ ̵a̴r̶o̸u̷n̶d̷ ̶t̶h̴e̴ ̶c̵h̴r̶o̷m̴e̴ ̵w̷h̵i̸t̴e̸ ̸r̶a̶y̶g̴u̶n̶ ̸i̴n̴ ̶h̷i̴s̸ ̵h̷o̴l̶s̷t̷e̴r̴.̶ _

_ ̶ ̸ _

_ _

_ ̷ ̶ _

_ ̴A̷ ̵w̸o̶m̷a̵n̶ ̵i̸n̴ ̶a̷ ̴w̷h̴i̴t̵e̷ ̸p̴e̸n̴c̴i̶l̵ ̷d̷r̶e̵s̸s̸ ̴w̸i̶t̷h̸ ̸s̶h̶o̷r̸t̴ ̶b̷l̴a̶c̶k̶ ̵h̷a̶i̸r̷ ̶w̸a̵s̶ ̷i̵n̶ ̸t̸h̷e̴ ̵o̶t̵h̶e̵r̶ ̸m̵a̵n̷’̴s̵ ̵g̵l̵a̵s̵s̷ ̷c̸e̶l̴l̶ ̵a̴s̴ ̶h̵e̶ ̷l̵a̴i̶d̸ ̴a̸r̸o̵u̸n̸d̸ ̵o̶n̴ ̶t̸h̸e̸ ̴f̷l̸o̵o̵r̸,̸ ̵c̶o̵n̵v̸u̸l̸s̶i̷n̶g̴ ̴a̴n̶d̵ ̵s̷c̴r̸e̶e̸c̸h̵i̸n̵g̷.̵ ̴“̵D̶o̵n̷’̶t̵ ̴y̸o̶u̶ ̸r̶e̶m̸e̴m̶b̵e̷r̵,̸ ̷K̸o̸b̵r̵a̷?̵”̵ ̸M̷r̶.̸ ̸I̶e̸r̷o̵ ̸p̸r̵e̶s̴s̴e̷d̴.̶ _

_ ̷ ̸ _

_ ̴E̵x̶t̸e̶r̶m̵i̶n̸a̵t̷o̶r̶ ̶W̴a̴y̶’̶s̸ ̴h̸a̴n̶d̶ ̶c̵o̴l̴l̵i̴d̸e̶d̷ ̶w̸i̶t̵h̵ ̷M̵r̸.̸ ̵I̷e̵r̴o̴’̶s̵ ̴c̸h̸e̶e̶k̷.̵ _

_ ̷ _

_ d̴ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜ _

_ ̴̨̨̛̻̲̟̪̞͉̹̼̗͙̖̈̔̆̉͆̑̒́͋̔̐̕͠͝█̸̧̡̨̠̱̣͔̘̝̜̦͓̬̻̟̮̭̰̙̞̪̳̮͍̀̌̒̓̋̓́͌͆̿͗́̃̌͗̌͋̇̎̿̔̆̊͘̚͜͠͠͝█̴̧̡̛͕͕̘̗̭̫̟̺͍͓̬̪̠̬̥̯̩̟̭͖̲̯̈́͌̍͋̑̓̀̀͋͛̔̈́̎͋̐͂̀̀̏͘͜͜͝ͅ█̴̨̨̛̺͔̟̫̮̱̖͈̯̙͉͔̰̹̍̍͆̀̌̀̌͝█̵̢̣̫͖̝̰̦̹̮̺͖̝̞̙̖̞̟͙͍͇̜͔͒͛͐̄̋̀̓͌̿̃̀͊̾̌̿̃͘̚͜͝█̵̡̺̲̝̙̗̝͉̯̯͚̚̚█̶͉̂̍̈͒█̷̨̢̛̞̲̳͚͓̝̲̪͙̊͛̿̈́͐̓̄͌̾́̍͗́̅̐̾̃̎͗̐͘͘͘͠█̶̧̨̢̛͓̘͍̻̯̦̲̥̞̠̩̬̦͗͒̌͒̈́̓͋̽͛́̋̌̐̐̃̿͒̑̋͋̉̿͌̉̐͠͝█̷̛̝̦̓̏͗́̀͂͋͌͛͑́̽͐͊̾̈́̈́̽͌̏̾̚͝͝͝█̸̨̧̢̪̟̺̺̺̤̮͉̭̫͕͙̥̯̬̦̏͗͊͋̑͐̊͒̍͒͋͘̚͜͠ł̶͉̊̆̅̈̈́́̆ ̶̨̥̗̹͎̙̿̎̎̃̇ͅ₮̴̦̞͗͒Ø̴̛̗͇̠̎Ⱡ̴̢̻͈̝̙͌͗̚͝͠Đ̵̖̪̻̝͋̋ ̵̫̋̄̍₱̴̧̨̅̓͑̌̊͛͠Ɇ̵͉̮̋̍̎̐̏͆Ǿ̴̨̯̩̹̞͍₱̵͔͙̻̫̋Ⱡ̵̗͕̬̩̋̆͋͜Ɇ̴̺̼͉̥͗͜ͅ ̷̗̐̎͝₵̶͍̣͈̝̬͖͑̍₳̵̟͎͈͈̖̄̈́͘₦̸̣̙̥͎͐̕'̷̩̫̟̮̀̊͐̓̏͘₮̵̨̖̼̯̈́̏͊́̕ ̶̗̘̻̳̲͓̎͛̈͐̃͝Ⱨ̸̡̖̭͙̍̌ͅØ̵̫̀͗̈̅Ⱡ̵̨͈͙̗͗̈́͗̂̾͜͠Đ̶̨̨͚͇̰̥̤̽͛̚ ̶̨̡̟͒̾̅̉̀̔Ɏ̷̧͍̮̺̹̘̫̀͝Ø̸͎͖͔̜̖̗̩̀̌́̀͂Ʉ̶̣̐͆̕Ɽ̵̢̠̖̗͙̅͑͒̊͂̑͝ͅͅ ̴̧͙̳̲̲̫̲̐͊̉̾̊͠₥̷̨̤͚̬͕̜̑̈́̓͊ͅØ̶̰̒̑͆̉̾̈́͝Ʉ̵̝͙̤̖͐͂̓̍͜₮̸͖̈́͌͌͠Ⱨ̷̢̇̃ ̷͖̣̉₳̴̧̜̘͍̔̏́̔₦̵̺̻͍͔̋͋̈́̈͠Đ̸̪̹͍̗̞̽͌͗͗̂͛͠ ̸̝̅̈́̃̐̔₦̴̨̘̘͊Ø̵̳̌͊̑₩̷̫̽̉ ̴̯̗̝͙͌̽̆₮̷̪͈̖̥̥̆Ⱨ̴̤̗̦̩̺̪͂̓͗̒ͅɆ̵̧̢̧̂̃̀̉͠Ɏ̷̨̹̬̘̘͔̍̂͊̎͠'̸͉̯̖̞̗̈́̃͗̇͠͝Ɽ̷̩̖͇͛Ɇ̶̲̯͉̻̈́̆͜ ̸̡̼̱͕̼̈̉̈́͗̒͐₮̴̨̯͕̩̤̍₳̷͉͈̱̖̍̕Ⱡ̷̢̙̰̂͌̈́̉̽̄̈́ͅ₭̷̰̩̱̜̉̌̓̈́͘͘ł̵̫͕̳̜̳̗̝̃̓̐͝͠₦̶̞̱͓̬͇̆ͅ₲̵̳̫̣̰̔̔̂̓̔͝ ̵̳̱̳̾̓̒̀̈̈́̚₴̴͈́̈̒͆͂͋Ⱨ̸̰͉̮̳̥̌͑̒̂̓̋̕ł̸̮̟̺̟̥̗͊͂₮̵͎͛́͆͒̚,̷̩̟̖͎̙̇̑̆͐͛ ̷̧̜̻̤̝̜̯̓̉͋ł̶̹̣̬͙̼͚̺͒̒̓'̷̝̒̆̔̊₥̷̛͉̈́̀͆͑́ ̸͓̲̅͝₦̷̟̺͓͛͆ͅØ̶̙͈͖͗̓͜͜ͅ ̷̛̼̥̟̟̰͊̃͗͐̚₣̵̡̘̰̤̟̄͆̿̚ͅͅł̸̨̝̭̦̬̈́̿̈́̽͋ͅͅV̶̖̥͉̣̜͛̎͐͑͛Ɇ̸̫̂̽̑̇̐͝͝ ̶̧͛̒̄̀͠Ɏ̵̱͕̈́́̌͗̚Ɇ̶̰͚̥͂̂͑̏̕₳̵̢̧̠̘̼̜̊̒̂̚Ɽ̸̛̛̼̫͂͒̋̔̍ ̶̨̠͓̰̻͖̙͋̋͂̈̆̒̚Ø̸̩̞͉͆̃̎̍͘Ⱡ̴̱͔͈͌̾̾͗͌͛̓Đ̵͕͖̫͊̀͛̎ͅ!̸̛̛̬̅͛̍̓̚ ̵͍̼͚̟́̄̓̋̂̄͘₥̶̡͖̳͖̳̜̤̃̀̕͝Ɏ̵̡̯̩͍͍̬͎͊̔͠͝͝ ̸̡͓̥̅̀Ⱨ̸̜̩̖̮̍̾Ɇ̴͓̜̗̗̟́₳̵̢̥̪̟̙̜̮̽̊̏̊̐͠Đ̷̳̺̈̈́̉͘'̶̥̜͙̈͗̀̾₴̶̻̰̺͍͌ ̶̨͓̯͆͊͒͂̇͝₭̶̛͈̎̐́͘̚͠ł̴͓͂͝Ⱡ̴̼̍̽Ⱡ̷͍̋̃́͛͒͗̚ł̶̘̤̮̏̃̒̉͑͘₦̷̟̖̦̠̥̲̳̿̈͠₲̶̲͉̙͎̱̟̐̉͂̋́ ̵̮̝̹̬͖̻̂̀̉́͐̀₥̵͓͙͇̗̈́̊̿̕̕͝Ɇ̴̟̉̌͒̄ ̴̖͙̰̰͕̎̉͒ł̷̤͕̰̘͕̝̻͗̓͝ ̴̩͉̋͂̆̈̈̕͝ͅ₴̶̨͙͈̦͔̆̂̌ͅͅɆ̴̠͉̐̓̿́̀̌͠Ɇ̵̱͇̮̹͛ͅ ̶͔̹̤̮̤͇̓̂₣̶̧̩̝͇̽͂̓̊₳̷̨̧̬̩̼̭͆̽͌₵̶̨̠̤͎̳̪̝̔̌̐́Ɇ̶̛̲͓̙̓̚͝₴̵̺͛̄̍͘ͅ ̶̡͉͙̳͍̜̈́̏͘₩̴̦͚͙̺̜̹̇͆͛͆͑̎̾ͅⱧ̷̨̥̙̤͎͔̋Ɇ̴̡͍̘͖͎̻̽͊̿̿͝₦̸̧͉̠̊̋̊͘ ̸̢̠̻̖͙̠̱̅̎̿̄̉̕ł̷̺̣͚͈́ ̷̨͇͕̰̜̽̄̽ _

 

 

 

 

_ Poison winced, remembering the way his cheek stung when he got slapped by His Mother. _

_ ̴ _

_ ̴“̵D̴o̶n̶’̷t̵ ̴c̷a̵l̸l̸ ̵m̷e̵ ̵t̶h̶a̸t̷,̶ ̴M̸r̶.̵ ̸I̸e̴r̷o̷,̶”̴ ̸E̵x̴t̵e̶r̵m̸i̷n̵a̵t̶o̴r̶ ̸W̴a̷y̶ ̴s̷a̸i̵d̶ ̴c̷o̵o̷l̴y̴ ̷a̵s̷ ̸h̸e̶ ̷g̸o̸t̴ ̸o̵u̴t̶ ̷a̶ ̷t̷a̷s̴e̸r̸ ̵a̷n̶d̵ ̵s̶t̴u̷n̷n̷e̵d̶ ̴M̵r̶.̷ ̷I̴e̶r̵o̴’̶s̶ ̴n̷e̶c̸k̵ ̴w̴i̴t̵h̸ ̴i̸t̴.̸ ̷M̷r̵.̸ ̷I̵e̷r̵o̷ ̷f̴l̶i̶n̷c̶h̶e̷d̷ ̵a̴s̷ ̴t̷h̷e̴ ̸e̶l̶e̵c̴t̵r̴i̸c̴ ̸p̸u̵l̵s̵e̶ ̸s̸t̶r̸u̸c̷k̷ ̸h̶i̷s̴ ̴n̸e̸c̵k̷,̷ ̵b̶u̴t̷ ̴i̸t̸ ̴w̸a̷s̸ ̸s̴t̷i̴l̶l̷ ̵b̴e̵t̸t̷e̴r̸ ̴t̶h̴a̵n̷ ̶t̸h̴e̸ ̵t̸o̷r̸t̴u̸r̷e̴ ̵h̴e̸ ̶h̶a̵d̵ ̸d̴e̷a̴l̸t̴ ̷w̶i̵t̷h̵ ̵t̷h̷e̶ ̴d̴a̸y̶ ̴b̸e̴f̷o̴r̶e̷.̴ ̵ _

_ _

_ ̷B̸e̴f̶o̸r̷e̴ ̵M̸r̵.̴ ̸I̸e̸r̵o̶ ̸c̵o̴u̵l̵d̵ ̵t̶h̸i̷n̶k̸ ̸E̴x̸t̸e̵r̴m̴i̴n̴a̴t̸o̴r̶ ̶W̴a̶y̴’̸s̵ ̸l̶e̸g̴ ̸s̸w̵u̷n̵g̸ ̴u̸n̶d̷e̷r̴ ̸h̸i̶s̷,̵ ̸k̶n̴o̵c̷k̶i̸n̷g̷ ̵h̸i̸m̶ ̷t̴o̴ ̶h̵i̸s̸ ̴f̷e̴e̵t̴ ̴a̶g̵a̸i̴n̷.̴ ̷M̴r̶.̷ ̴I̸e̸r̴o̴ ̴t̸r̸i̵e̴d̷ ̷t̶o̸ ̶g̵e̶t̸ ̸t̸o̵ ̶h̵i̵s̴ ̵f̸e̷e̴t̸ ̸b̷u̶t̸ ̵E̶x̸t̵e̸r̷m̷i̴n̷a̴t̶o̴r̷ ̷w̵a̵y̷ ̴a̷l̴r̴e̷a̶d̶y̵ ̴h̵a̵u̷l̸e̶d̷ ̷h̶i̶m̵ ̶u̷p̷ ̸a̵n̸d̷ ̸t̶h̶r̸e̵w̴ ̶h̷i̶m̷ ̵o̶v̸e̵r̵ ̸h̵i̶s̴ ̷s̴h̸o̵u̸l̷d̷e̷r̶.̷ _

_ ̴ ̷ _

_ ̴“̷H̷e̷y̴!̵”̷ ̸M̷r̷.̷ ̸I̴e̸r̶o̷ ̴s̴c̵r̷e̴a̴m̷e̷d̸,̵ ̴d̶a̵n̷g̴l̵i̶n̵g̴ ̵u̶p̴s̸i̸d̷e̸ ̵d̶o̶w̵n̵.̵ ̶H̷e̷ ̶f̵e̶l̷t̴ ̵h̴i̴s̶ ̴s̶i̵n̷u̸s̵e̴s̶ ̶d̶r̶a̷i̴n̴ ̸a̴n̷d̷ ̵h̸i̵s̷ ̷h̴e̸a̷d̴ ̵d̸i̵z̶z̶y̵,̴ ̶“̶L̷e̴t̶ ̶m̸e̷ ̵g̷o̸!̴”̶ ̴h̶e̸ ̵r̴e̵p̶e̴a̵t̸e̸d̸ ̶a̶s̸ ̴h̵e̵ ̷p̴u̷n̵c̴h̶e̷d̴ ̸t̷h̵e̸ ̸t̶a̷l̷l̸e̷r̸ ̴m̸a̴n̸’̴s̷ ̷b̶a̷c̸k̸.̷ ̴ _

_ ̵ ̷ _

_ ̴E̴x̷t̴e̴r̸m̷i̸n̶a̵t̵o̴r̶ ̶w̸a̴y̴ ̵i̷g̸n̴o̵r̸e̵d̶ ̷h̴i̷m̸ ̴a̴n̴d̵ ̴t̴u̸r̵n̵e̴d̶ ̷a̷r̷o̵u̷n̶d̵ ̷t̷o̴ ̷l̵e̵a̴d̷ ̶h̶i̵m̵ ̵b̴a̴c̶k̷ ̸d̵o̵w̶n̷ ̷t̷h̵e̴ ̸h̶a̷l̶l̷ ̷P̸o̴i̷s̸o̷n̴ ̵h̶a̸d̷ ̷j̵u̴s̴t̶ ̵w̴e̶n̴t̷ ̸t̶h̸r̷o̷u̵g̸h̴ _

_ ̵ ̶̧̢̡̡̧̛̛̛̛̠͔̤̺͍̤̬̹̗͈͍͓̻̙̭̣̻͍̰̳͓̹̦̪̣̰̫̖͙̤̰͔̘̝̻͖̙͉̻̝̦̳̭̜̜͍̦̳̘̩̦̞͓̲͍̤͈̳̼̙̫̗̺̠͓̩̼̌͆͒͒̎̊̌͌͐̐͗̈̈́̏̎̒̔̎̄͗̈́̀̈́̅̒̓́̊͒̀̆̏͗͛͑̽̋͑̔͐̒͌̄̔̀̒̃̓̉̔̉̉̇̽̒̄͒͆̀̈́̿̅́̃̔̌̏͊́̿̀̀̄͒̇̑̽̒́̐͗͒́̾̃̈̓͂͋̏͋́̔͊͒͛͆̒͒͂͌͒̊̈̄̐̆͆̎̃̀̌̀̔̎͊̇̒̉͋̈̔̄̿͋̐̎̉̊́̔͋́̋̍̀̔͐̒͛̔͗͊͒͒̀̉́̓̿̉̍̃̃͊̉͂̋̒̉͑͘̕͘̕̕̚̕̕̕̕͘̚͘̕͜͠͠͠͠͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅ ̶̡̡̨̧̢̧̡̡̧̢̧̢̨̧̢̨̡̡̨̛̛̛̱͈͎͔̯͔̤̮͚̭̘̲̖̙̫̭̗͖̥̣̝̯͕̬̤͕͈̘͍̣̯̺̘͎̣͚̭͈̪̞̞̤̭͉̭̥̫͙͕̻̺͕͓̬̦̪̺͇͚͓̲͚̙͓̤̞̟̮̭̤͓͓̗̮͇͙͎̜͎̳͇̮̙̝̮̗̣̩̼̳̬̹̤̺̦̮̝̰̯̝͙̥͓͈̥̼͖̤̗͕̯̱̱̺̻̱͈̬͙̲̥̤̫̘̘͖̬̞͎̞̳̖̝̘̭̠̮̣͓͍͉̩̤̰̟͉̖̟̝̠̪͕̪̯̯͇̳̞̬̱̭̰̭̪̬̬͎͙̰̤͕͚̣̝̲̼̠̙̖͖̫̰̭̙̻̯̻̳͖̙̣̯̺̮͕̯̼̤̙͙̗̝͉̙͈͇͇̪̺̠̪̗̠͉̹͖̲̪̖̯̜̤̊̆͒̈́̀͛̍̔̈͛̀̊͂̑͑̌̔̅͐̇̾͒̊̇͂̿̉̐̆͛̈́͛͋͑̊̒́͂̂̉̍̇͑̍́̌̀͌̒̆̈́̔͊̅́̔͌͂̐͊̅̈̏͆̉̎̓̎̎̒̾̌̂̄̊͐̾͛̒̎͆̂́̒̌̐̏̈̋̊̽̔̅̽̿̈̌͂́̋̔͋͊͒̌͒́̆̌̉͊̽̿͛͌̓̏̈̔̄̔͋̂̋̑̂̌̊̑͛̍͛̀͆̿́̾̅̓͌͋͒̊͊̋̾͋͆̿̍͑͌̐̃̒̎̉̕̕̚̕̚̚̚̕͘̕̚̕̕̕̚̕͘͘̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̸̧̧̢̧̡̧̢̡̛̛̛̛̛̮̘͙̱͔̣͚͎͎̬͎͉̦̝͖̹̪̗̥̦̝̦͎͚͉͈̥̟̹̜̭̗̞̘̫̪̼̼̹̲̳̞̦̦̻͉̫̩͉̥̜͕͔͍͉̣͎̖̣̤̝͎̦͓͍̯̺̲̼̦͉̩̪̥̘̝̳̦͉̟̩̙̠͉̱͕̘̬̣̙͔̥͈̥͙͇̬͓̗͖̫̟̣̯̹̺͙͔͇̖̺͈͚̥͎͍̝̘̟͙̺̞̻̯͓̠̹͉̫̳̖̦̪̜̬͇̖̯͔͍̟̮̞̻͎̫͈͚̯̳̜̩͖̪̭̥̭̺̍͆̂͆̿̿̉̀̀̎̆̅̌̅̇̽͆͛͆̊̓͒̇̉͗̒̏̉̇̈͑̾̂̑̅̆͑̄̅͆̐́̏̌͛̈́͒̓̃̂͆͆̔́͐͋̀̓͑̅̿̆̏͋̎̈̎̀̄̎́̌̋̊̉̀͋̿̈͗̅̑͊̊̈̔̅̌̐̒͛̿̾̎̔͋̇̂̑̒͗̌̈̐͆͌̑̅̄̿̑͋͒͆̎̽̎̉̀͋͋̉̓͂̍͂̂͊̎̊͑͛̒̔̾̉͌̄͒͊̒̐̄͗̈͛̅̑̂͂̾̔̆̄̿̎͌͗͑̋̔̿̉̈̀̅̐̎͂͑̈͒͒͗̍͑̆́̑̎̿̆̆͂̿̍͛̅̔̉̚̕̕͘̕̚͘͘͘͘̚̚̚̚̕̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̢̧̢̨̢̨̧̨̡̡̢͉̫̖̝̤̲̺̘̞̬͈̯̣̮̮̣̙͓̲̝̦͈̭̜͉̻̬̘͔̠̘̞͍̭̝͈͍̟̬̖̥̼̬͉̪̯̖͔̰̥̜̞̬̲̤͍̣̭̠̫͚̳̟̩̜̼̪͇͎̘̬͚͎͇͓̭̼̪̪͈̬̫̱̹̘̹̞̩̰͔͍̟͈̹̯̬̆͛̓̈̄̍̆͑̿͒̃̔̾̒̆̀̊̉̍̎̅̆̂̀́͌̊̉̏̏̽̒͊̒̑͊͆̾͋̍̋͋̆̈́̏̈͊̾̋̌͛́̚̕͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅ ̷̧̧̧̨̨̢̧̡̨̢̨̢̨̡̢̢̢̡̢̡̨̨̢̨̨̨̡̛͍̪͚̟͚̠̜̻͉̤̪̯̘͓̟̳̭͙̪͕̬̩̫̭̞̻͔̮̦͍̺̯͕̣̙̘̫͉̼͇̼̗̲̟̪̳̟̣̣̰̮̙͍̺͎̬̖̠̜̬̗̲͎̝̱͚̳̫͚̺͔̘͇͚͚̤̣̩̬̖͓̭̭̜̺̭̦̹͓̩̝̤̞̦͔͇̼̝̣̞̤̦̗̯̲̪̰̬̰̬̬̰͈̞̻̟̫̳͉̩̱̭͕͙͈͕͙̗̳͔̤̭̩̮̜̬̺̝̙͉̼̭̜̥̖̠͖̤̬̩̞̙̩͉̙̯͇̲̪͎̹͔̤̝͔̝͓̟̥̫̗̺͎͍̳̪̹̯̮̬̙̪̥̺̖̳̦̠̯̭̆͋̄̿̀̊̄̌̋̔̇̋̒̎͗̃͗̂̊͌͗͂̈́̓͐́̀̅̊̓̾̐̄͌̈̈͐̊͐̀̐͑̈́́̽̈͌̎͊́̒̎̓̿̒̅͆̑̆͆́̋̀̍̋̃͒̔̂̋̒̅̎̃͘̚̕̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̨̧̡̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̣̟̬̖͓͓͚̳͖̳͖̖̭̻̙̞͎̥͙̯͉̪͍͓̮̬̫̹̗͔͖̫̟̲͙̠͓͓̰̠̫͕͇̄͊͊̀̈̒̑͒̊͊͑̋̌̈̍͒́̎̄̌̉͒͒̇̑̂͛̏̓̏̽̔̍̊̈̓̒̐̈́̅͛̎̔͌̿̎̿͗͒͂̂̇͒́̉̐͂̒̂̌̎̌͒̓͋͆̿̓̈̇̑͒̑̅͗͋̇͗͐̔̽́̍̎̂̽̋̌̌͐̇̏͆͂̋͊̅̐̅͗̃͌̂̿̒͐͑̀̒̀̅͋͛̊͂̌̂̒̀́̓̍͒͊̿̂̋̄͐̎̄̄͆̇͑͒̃̌̍̒̀̊̒͛̎̋̌͊̐͊̄̑͑̊͐͆̂̚̕̚͘̕̚͘̕͘̕͘̕̚͘̚͜͠͠͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝ͅ ̶̧̡̢̧̡̢̨̡̢̡̨̧̡̞̞͖͈͈͚̟̩͉̼͔͈̦̭̦̪̭̝͍̯͚̳̟̩̰͙̰͚̟̠͙̣̣͎͓͎̮̣̱͙̯͍̝̲̫̻̲͙͉͎͇̖͖͉͚͖̪̠̺̰͚̩̝̫̥̤̳̜̘̱̣̤̪̰͓̬̲͔͔̦͖͎͈͔̲̳̦̱̜̱̳͚̳͈̭̥̠̲͖̏͂̎̇̉̃͊̃̑̈́̄́͌̆͐̓̍̋́̇̀̓̍̈͋̈́̾̈́͌̐̿͗̈́́̆͆̓̌͐͗̏̎͋̿̄̊̂̐͊͗͘̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅ ̵̡̨̡̢̧̢̡̡̨̢̨̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̭͖̲̼̮̹͉̪͓̜̙̲͍͍̮̣̥͎̬̩̭̟̱̗̩̬̲̩͙̪͓̺̻̣̗̖̜̺̼̟̯̣̳̮̲̭̗̫̰͉͎̟͈̱̩̟̹̞̙̮̘̱̬͕̼͍̤͖̺̟͕͇̻̮͔͖͓̜̳̫̭̺̪̳͇̼̩͉͖̭̙̗̬̘̥̳͙̼̞̜̝̺̖͔͇͉̩̥͓̯̬̙̤̖̲̩͈̱̮͎̫̮̤̬̝͓͙̙̹̠̻͙̭̣͚̭͕̜̪͎̣̙̜͉̺̖͚̻̮͓̟̯̜̜͛͑̾̀͒͋̅̓̽͂̾̆͂͗̈̉͆̌̆̃̓̾̊̔̌̋̔͆̈̓̈́̈́̇̍̔̑͑͊̋̌̐̈́̓́̿̓̽́̆̒͐̔̒̐͐̂̌̾̇͊͆̃́̔̄̿̅̔̓̾̄̿͋̓͂̾̏̐͗̐̉̐̀̾͌̿̌̄́͊͌̔̉͊͌̏͊͋̄̎̃͋̋͗̔̓̍̉̿̋̆̏̔̽̆̾̒̃̂͋͂̽̋̿̂̍̃̌̾̈͑͒̏̇̀̀̽͒͑͌̉̑͒̑̄̍̏̐͂͂̉̋̿̄̓͋̒̄͛̆̒̄̐͛̍̑̿̊̆̅̈̅͛͒͘̕̕͘̕̕̕͘͘̕͘̚̕͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̢̢̡̡̨̢̨̢̡̧̛̛̛͔̘̜̟͉͚̱̦̲̘͓̬͇̭̙̥̰̹͖̠̠̠͉͙̤̞̤͇̯̝̤̜͚͕̦̯̖͔̙͙̫͖̺͇̮̟̤̰̤̝̭̰̬̟̩̺̥̺̥̥͚͇̦̝̳̼̤̥̥̥̩͕̘̲̻̝̠̲͇͎̭̬͙̩͖̺̗͔̙̳̖̪͓͖̝̲̱͇̖̫̍̈́̋̅͛͂͊̔͌̒̉̈͆̂̌͒͒̈́̈́̿̿̅̀̐̏̾̍̾̃͑̀̍̌͂̑͊̑̓͊̔̐̇̏͂̈́́̍͋̔̽̿̇̅̅͐̑̆̄̏̎͗̑͛̅͒̈̄̎̃̑͆͗̌̑̇͋̾̐̓̽̌͌̂͆͐̇̊͗̏͑͆̿̋̏̎͊̎̋͊͒͒̋̏̔́͗̄͋̇̀́͗̓̂̾̇̽̂͘̚̚͘̕̚̚͘̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͝͠͠͝͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅͅ ̶̨̨̢̧̨̧̨̨̧̧̧̢̛̛̪͙̱͍̱͙̥̯̞̫̣͈͉͇̟͓̜̲̫̼̼̱͔̹̼̪̥̫͎͈͔̠͇͍̹͓͉̪̮̮̺̻͉͕̲͉͖͙̦̫̥̝̬͙͚̻̹̰̠̯̳̮̳̗̗̰̰̱͍̜̹̻̪̲̩̲̗͙̱̖̞̞͉̗͎̘̹̮̲̼̱̙͕̝̼̤̳͚̝̻̮͉̜̭̣̪͎̮̳̰͇̩̲̾̌̋̀́̍̔̂͑́̄̄̄͗̀͆͛̊̀̊̊̏̿̈́̆̎̔̇̓̈́̈́̅͋̏͂͂͐͐͌̀̎́̆͌͋̈́͐̓̅́̍́̓̾́͋̾̃͊͗̃̌̈̊̽̄̂̔̿̅̋̎̓̊͒̃̇̀̅̒̂̔̐̿͂̍͋̓͌̓̆̓̎̔̍͑͂̃̌̃̃͆̈̂͆͂̎̐̀̋̈̃̂̃̅̄͆̽͑̾̊̓͗̀̏͋̍̽͑̒̄̓̉̓͐̈͆̒́̔̋̃̚̕͘̚͘̚͘͘͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̧̢̧̡̨̧̡̡̛̛̛̛̟̰͈̺͍̠͖̝̪͎̰͙̩͍̤̭̼͚̮̹̪̱̩̜͇̟͉̱̠͇̙̞̺͇͙̺̘͕̗̱̗̹̰̯͔͔̘̣̟̰̰̱͈͍͖̠̙͉̥͈̣̮̩̗͚̱̭̼̮̥͍̖͍͍̱̱̼̼͓̬͍͎̞̦̺͇̠̪̪̤̯̯̯̖̦̩͚̺̖̖͖̮̘̼̳̬̲̟̞͍̝̰͕̜̥̰͉̯͔̮̹̞̝̫͇͔̥͖̳͓̖̥͍̣̹͚͈̤̭͖̟̿̓̉̓͛̓́͊̈́̔̇̀̓́͛̔̄̄̂͛͌͐̉̃̈̿̀̀͛͗̏͒̀̀̆̆͒͊̌̽̎́̈́̈́͂͂̑̿͑̉̇̈́̆͋̊͛͆̃̀͑͛̊̋͂̌̌́̓́͒͐̍́͂̉͆̑̽͋͆̽͋̉͒̊͒͂̑̊͗̑̿̉̆̿̈͆̌̿̀̓̾̾̐̏̽̽̑̓͛̿̏̽̐̊͒̾̓̆̈͛̌́̋̊̽̄̑̐͊̇͌̆̽̊̀̍̚͘̚̕̕͘͜͜͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͠͝͠͝ͅ ̶̧̢̧̢̨̢̧̧̨̧̨̡̧̡̢̛̛̟̼͖̻̟̯̘̳͙̜͇͈̖̤̬͍̲̫̱̠̪̺͕̣̖̞͍̙̤̱̯͓͖̻̗̝̥̜̗̭͎̥͓̖͚̰͉̰̳͎͙̭̺̻̩͈̬͎̠̩̳̭̞͖̠̭̻̗̹͈̫͖̹̱͇̜̬͉͓̟̯̪̬̠̺̰̻̘̬̦̙̫̲̖̝̣̬̖̫̖͍͇̳̳̻̝̭͉̣̱͈̝̯͚̭̣̤̱̫̖͙̺̠̠̞̩̺̮͖̮͔̉̋̑̀̈́̔̈́̀̽̆̎͒͐̄̾̏̈́̑̀̌̍͗̇̌̈̂̌̌͛̂̑́̓̓̍̅͑̈́́͋̊́̊̄̋̚͘̚͘͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͠͠ͅͅ ̴̡̡̢̢̨̨̨̢̡̨̨̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̭̖̪̹̞͉̲̦͚͇̯̟͇̭̟̤̗̰͓̭̝͈͍̙̦̜̬̗̹͍̪̫̖͍̲͇̱̬̘̖̻̠̘͉̺͚̲͕̞̩̻͓̺̦͎̠̙̜̫̦̯̬͉̱͖̝̰̠̦̝͔̞̤̙̥͚͇̻̜̰͍̜̹̭̭̫͍̬̯͉͓̘̫̠̯̻͓̱̩͓̘͖̬͙̥̦̙̼̖̪̖͓̼͍̳̦̙̜̗̩̲̟̗̘͇͙͕̤̫͎͙̲͙̠̭̪̘̥̦̣͇̞̤͓̞̖̦̙͍͚͙̬̥̯̫͍͖͖̞̝̞̫̦̘͚̘̱̝͓̫͇̪̗͇̝̼̲͓͎̰̗͍̬̩̰͔̞͌̀̀̑̿̑̑̅͗̌̐̍̓͊̎͑̃̎͆͋͂̉͐́̈́͆̊̓̇̌̓̇̈́͌̋͆͛̾͂́̎̽͑̀̋̾̈́̿̃͆͊̓͂̍̆̊̆̓̂̋̾̾̉͗͗͑͑̔̎̽̊̏̎͑́̉̍̅̃̊̅͛͆̽̓̍͒̋͆̓͑̏̓̌͑͛̃̽͒̒̆͌̔̊̀̇̄̓̈̊́̿͗̈̽͒̽̾̿́̾̍͂̄͊͋̆͊͐͊̑͐̔́͗͒̄̍̊̔̇̐͊͆̂̏̆̃̔̋́̾͗͂̂͒̆͊̎́̽̃̐͌͛̓̅͌̑̄̌͂̆͊͒̚̕͘͘͘̚͘͘̚͘̚͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͠͠͠͝͝ ̶̧̧̡̢̢̢̧̨̡̨̨̢̧̨̧̡̢̢̡̡̨̢̨̨̡̡̛̙̞̮͉̟͉̮̪̘͈͈̩͖̮̠͙͓̳̘̜̻͇̗̘̫̘̹̺̹͍͍̩͇̩̣̜͙̣͔̼̗̳̳̳̥̱̞͉̮̩̺̼͔̖̯̗̱̝̬̪̦͚̻͓̞͉̼̬͓͍̪̖̖̜̙͉̠̠̰̗̥͕̼̗̘̫̰͔̤͍̟̗̞͇̭̬̺̖͇̪̣̥̜̳̝͎̥͎̜̩͈̦̺͇̤̫̜̱̪̲͓̻͓̞͎̖͓̪̰͇̗̥̹̗̫̟͍̝̠̫̻͕̥̟̦͔̜͔͎͙̟̙̤͉͖̻͙̦̬̪̙͍̜͚̠̘̯̪͇̝̙͔̠̻̙͚̙̻̪̜̠̞̘̤̝̳͕̘̖̘̰̦͙͍̜͎̜̗̱͓̯̲͓̑͋̉̑̓̊̈́̈́̈́̑̍̑͂̾̇̍̄͂̈͂̈́̐̒̏̏̈̽̾́̇̍̏̆̽̐̆̊̍̇͊͆́̊͐̃͐̎̇̈́́̂͑̅̽̋̽̈̈̏́̽̇̈̽̑͑̒͋̈̓͐̄͒̀̔̓͘̕̚͘̚͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̧̧̡̡̧̢̡̨̛̛̰͖̩͖̯̭̳̦̳̼̥̲̤͖͖̥͍̩̹̟͖͇͙͍̦̠̩̳̤̜͕̣̱͚͔̟̬̯̮͈͉̪̱̗͇̭̞͍̠͓̘͖͎̼̹̺̻͉̱͓̦̜̟̼͈̼̮̤̭̱̩͓̺̼͌̈́̃̍̂̓̉̓͊̾̏̊̒̀̒́̈̀̌̉͛́̈̀̾̒̏̓̃̔̿̓̋̊̒̒͊́̓̕̕͜͜͝͝ͅ ̴̢̢̨̧̡̛̛̛̛̼͕̘̥͈̘͓̬̥̪͇̩̜̹̬̜̻̰͙̫͇̠̜͔̲͇̮̩̩̩͓̲̭̙̙̬̭̜̞̙͎̘̺̖̳̪̣̗͇͈͚̺̪̖͎̼̱͉͇̘̻̖͈̤̝̩͈̭͓̬̤͎͎͎̳͉͓͓̱̩̎̋̀̃͋̿̉̿̏̇̃̑̉̎̈́̿̇̑͒͗̔̅̉͒̋̔͋̎͋͊̐͐̈̀͊͒͛̔͊̋̒͘̕̕͘͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅ ̵̨̧̡̧̡̢̢̧̧̧̧̡̨̨̘͈͉̗̖̻̗̭̼̞͕̞̬̜̘̹̻̬͖̘͎̭͉̙͇̦͖̪͎̟̦̬͎̠̥̯̫̖̦̤̭̮͓͎̜̩̱͙̮̠̦͙̭̤͉̘̰̱̙͉̗͖̭̺̮͔͚͌̂͋͐͌̅̀̅̉͊̈̕͜͝ͅͅ ̷̢̨̢̧̡̢̧̧̧̧̢̨̢̢̧̛̛̹͉͔͇̳͙͍̱͎̩͎̬̖̦̻̹̼̹̪̙͍͓̪̘͖̟͇̘̖͔̖̱̝͔͙̯̣͕̜̬̞̺̻̙͍̘̼͖͎̹̱̗̙̫̥̥͇̙̭̝̦͈͇̦̺̼̗̻̰̦̖̜̩͎̘̬̩̱̯̘̤̲̼̥̝̞̦̼̟̩̟̝͚̣̺̰̼̣͈̤̱̳͓͖̙̤̝̘̻̦͔̖̞͓͈̫̲̣̿͆̍̈́̌̓͒̆͌̆̈́͐̏͒̃̀̾̂̈̂̉̌̋̋̂̽̀͌̐̈́͛͛̿̎̍̊̃̀̋͌͛̽̋̊͑̅̓̄̀̓̇̃͗̾̽́͂̎̃̏̒͂̌̏͘̕̚̕̚͜͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅ ̴̧̨̧̨̧̨̡̛͕̜̩̝̼̟̯̬͚̳̠̬͓̲̜̰̙̫̯̠̯͍̞͚̤̣̺̙̳̖̪̭͔̙̝̼̙͉̪̹̲͖̠̻͙̤͎͖͎̹͕̹̟͕̼̘̭͓̺̥̰̹͓͚̹̤͎͙͍͔̼̲̂̓̔̀͒̅͋̌̔̀́̅̃̆̓̍̑͂̒͗̊͋͆̈́̀̏̒̽͊̽̍̊̆̓͑̉̂̓̇̈́̽̀́̅̊̀̅̋͑̽̌̇́̑͛̎̂̐̃̽̏͒̇̂̎̒͂̒̔͆͋̋̊̽͂̏͂͌̏̌̒̚̕͘̕͘̕̚͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͠͠ͅͅ ̸̢̧̢̡̨̡̧̢̡̨̨̢̡̡̧̨̨̧̡̨̡̡̨̧̧̡̛̛̛̛̲̞̙̳͉̞͍̘͈̯͚̤̦̞̺͎͉̗̰̙̱̻̦̝̫͕̟͕̟̫̘̦̘͈͈̮̯̰̹͇̪̜̖̹̣̞̪̳̗̦͈̭̯͕̘̟̙̗͙̯̯̼̝̟̺̥̙̞̤̫͓̤̥͍̼̮̹̤̩̟͍̭̹͍̻̩͕̻̺͔̼͇̫̹̝̦̞͉̯͙̘̥͓̰̜̣̪̣̘̼̮̦͕̱̦̯̰̹̣͚͕͍̪̙̯̞͕̥̗͎͚̟̮̯͔͖̭̫̝̣͙͎̱͈̜͇̞͈̱̖̻͔̳͈̳̳̝̤̬̖̝̭̱̜̟͔̬̙̘̜͖̱̘̟̖̤̺̻͉̣͈͍̹͖̥͖̱̈́̓͒͌͊̆͗͂̉͌́͆̐͒̅̈́̑̍̋̓̀̃̊͗̐̿́̑͐͆͌͑̀̅̏̀́͒̍͋̄́͂̈͂͒́̌̀̓̏̀̀͑͑̏̓̀͊̊̈̌̎͊̈̅̌́͊̔́̅͊̌͊́̊̏̿̊̑̈͋̌̔̽̄̔̐̍͌̍͆̿̈̽̀̈̓͆̃̂͋͌͂́̀͒̄̒̌͑͗̿͂̔̏̂̂͑̉̎̌̉̇̊͆̃́͂̒̄̾̒͋͂̔̐̍̎͘͘̕̕̕͘͘̕͘͜͜͝͝͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̸̡̨̧̧̢̢̢̧̨̨̧̨̧̢̧̨̛̛̛̛̛̛̪̼̱͎̠͕͈̭̦̙̱̜̣̥͚̗̤̥̲͖̭̦͖̖̥̘̠̻̤̮̤̮͚̱̻̲̩̖̣͔̥̬͖̫̮͖̜̭̤̝̜̰̹͎̥̯̖̖̣̖̼̥͍͙͚͇̱̣͈͓̟͇̪̰̣̘̼̙͖͎̼̺̝̤̪͈̠̯̺̹̻̩͈̝͎̮̲̙͉̱̰͖͎̻̱̲̭̫͇̟̞̜͉̮͎͖͉̱̣̦̳̪͖̱̣̞̫̙̞̰̗̝̥̰͇̹̭̦͈̗̼͖̖̰̱̠̻̥̱̙̒́̀̽̄̿̏̿́̊͂͑̎́̓͐̀̐̌̇̏̊̊̈͑̉̏̀̾̋̑̌̿͂̓͊͗̓̊͛̈́̈̅̑̓̿͛̓͒̉̒̄͑͋͌̂̏͋͂͗̉̈̀́̄̆̀̔̊̂̒͗͐̒̒̎͊͌́̿́̑̎͛̃̇͆̾̌̈̈͛̈̌̅̍̍̃̓̅̀͆̽͒̏̏̿̄͊̄̃̍͊̀̉͌̉́̂̓́̆́̅͘̚͘͘͘͘̕͘͘͘̚͘͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̨̧̧̛̛̥̱̭͍͕̺̪̯͎̥͖̪̘̭̥͓̘̼̦̭̦͓̳̣̼͚̰̱͉͈͙̥̗̤͚̝͕̗̪͙̺̖̲̬̠̠̠̺̤͔̬̤̭̰̾̀̑͛̾̓̄̈́̃̽̀̊̇̈́̈́̿͗̂͒͌͐̀̈́̕̚͘͜͜͜͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅ ̶̨̧̧̡̧̨̧̢̡̡̢̧̨̢̧̨̧̧̛̛̛̤̫̞̝͎͉̻̼̣̱̝̲͈̗͕̭͓̳̖͇̗̰͉̠̻͙̱̱͈͇͕͓̩͈̺̹̟̫͙̯̞̬͚̣̞̱̟̮̜̻͔̞̟̣͎̱̻͎̖̪͕̘͖̱̬̮̥̲̬̠̟̻̣̯̭͖̙̯̬̖͓̝̙̰̣͚̻͍͖͕͉̜̗̩̯̗̹̪̲̹͍̯̝̦̯̩̖̻͙̳̞̘̯̣̲̥̘̩͕̝͔̫̪̬̩͍̩̘̝̻̰̜̞̼̟̟̲̲̹͍̺̤̪̹̟̰͙̞̹̰͎̝̂͆̀̓͋̃̇̈́̿͛̑̀̎͊͋̔̒̇̈́͗̇́͑̒̅̂͋̑̈̈́́͂́͂̀͊́̃̽͌̓̾͗̌̒͗́̽̍͋̈̐͛̍̆̏̅̆̋̄̍̄̈̍̇̓̿͊͗͗̒̎̊̀̅͛̒̔̿̊̃͛̄͒͐̀̃̇̄͒̉͊̒̽̔̐̽̉̕̕̚͘͘̚̚̚͘̕̕͘̚̚͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͠͠͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅ ̵̢̨̧̧̡̨̨̡̧̨̛̛̛̛̝̱̜̤̣̼͕̮͖͇̪̺̳̮͎̺̰̳̺̠̣͓̟͖͎̟̟̮̙̥̘͇̰̥̠̜̰̝͓̩̯̹̥̥̼̮̞͔̪̼̘̲̩͇͉̗͖̲̙͓̲̹͙̘̭̬̩̥͕̻̙̱̭̳͎̯̝͍̣̩̻͕̘̭̫͋̿̀́́́͐͐̃̈́͂̃͂̃̄̆̽̊̆̾͒͂͆̀͒́͆̅̔̅̈́̽̆̈́̋̋̿̊̏͊̆̎́̿͆̌̿̃͛͐͒̊̿̈͂̉̐̋̄̏̅͐͆͐͌̃̑͆̀̃̒̎̔̉̔͂̍̅͒͐̋͒̉͗̈̏̃̂̎͆̀̒̑̓̔̄̚̕͘͘͘̕̕̚̚͘͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅ ̵̧̛̛̛̛͉̬̭̯̘̖̖͗̅͂͂̿͐̃̆͛̆͐̓͒̀͗̇̿͐̐͒͂̒̈̽̐͆̂͆͌̽̇̉̑͆͌̅͒̒̈́̑̀̓̔̏̿̒̀̐̐̾̿̀̍͐̈̀̾̇̉̐͋̀̽̎̇̾̿͂̂̐̂́͌̾̑̀͒͗̽̓̂̑̔͋̃̑͑̂̊̊̒̅̃̃̿͘͘̚͘͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝ ̷̨̢̡̧̢̡̨̧̢̧̨̨̢̢̧̨̧̨̧̧̧̡̡̛̛̗̙̼̟̺̟̗̮͓̯̘͍͓͕͔͙̟͕̦̱̣̪̹̫͚̠͔̱̭̠̱̮̞̼͕̹̠̺͍̖̦̱̻̱̦̺̮̞͚̭͖̪͉̣͇̪̝̙̭̰̣͎͕͈̜̰͕̩̣̙̠̲̫̩̱͔̤̰̘̻͍̳̲̝̙̙͕̫͇̲̤̲̖̘̪̼̥̭̳͖̳̮̥̜̠͚̫̲̥̗̳̭̞̜̥͇̪̹̹̺͕͙͎̻̞͓̝͔̗͓̗̪̳͖̞̯͍̳̯̪͕̤̹̤͚͚̳͕͙͖̜͉̺̥̠̳͙̭͓̻̻͓͙͚͔̪͖̩͉̣̗̥̗̠̳̗͍̫͚̰̟̱̖̬̼̈̒̄̓̌̉̏̽̐̏̇̄̌͐̔́̈́̑̋̓͛̐͛̎̋̈́͛̇̃͐͆̒̌̑̔̏̓̃̊̉̓̓́͆̑̆̒͑̍͗͊͐͌͛̀̊͗̌̍̎̓̿̇̄̾͌̄̄̌̉̂̀͋̎̏̌̈͒͌͂̽̇̍̆͑͗̀̉͗̐̿̑̍̈̓͛̇̋͗̽̏̊͌̈̒͋̆̊̕̕̕͘͘̕͘̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅ ̸̨̢̢̧̢̢̨̧̧̨̡̛̛̛̞̻̱̫̭̭̹͕̟̞͍̦͇̰͙̗͇̟̥̙͔̹̘̰̯̙͕̠̺͉̳̞̼̹̳͇̲̭͇̯̤͍͎̝̭̠͔̞̖̖̭̻̞̙̖̰̮̹͍̥̲̱̱͓̣̩̣̻̫͔̥͉̖̩͇̰̫̭̬̣͈̫̞̺̭̩̩̤̫̤̳͍̬̥̦͕̖̬̮͕͍̗̞̘̠̤͕̮̜̼͍̣͔̟̠̪͔̺̱̗̻̙͇̩̣̗̬͚̮͍͎̪̮͙̩͕̟͚̙̗͇̮̜̝̦̲̙̣̻̯̦̗̝͓͚͍̥̗̠̤͔̙̗͚͖͎̙͚̦̠̓̐̀̃̈̽̽͋̀̒̃́̃̊͐̽́̐̓͛̒̇̄͗͊͆́̒̓́̿̐̉̋̈́̌̀̅̀͌̋͌̍͗́͗̄̽̾̀̇̇́͋̃̆͑̑͐͊̍͛͒̀͂̌͛̾̍͒̽̽͑͛̿͂̍̄͋͗̽̿̔́͐̓̄̾͊́̾̌̎̌̅́͗͌̀̾́̃̉͂̎̉͂̉͗͌̽̂̾̽̎̾̋̓̓͋͒̌͐͌̄̍̄͒̒̔̾͒̅̏͆̆̍͐̇̌̑́̉͗͒̅̾̽͛͛͆̉̑̽͌̔͗̋̉̔̽̔̄̾̅̒̀̀͌͌̏̈̅̀͘̕̕̕͘̚͘͘͘̕̚̕͘͘̕͜͜͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅ ̸̡̢̢̧̨̡̧̛̛̛̛̛̯̹͔̖̲͈͉̠̱̦͙̞̠̣͍̜͕͇̘̻̖͈̯̝̺̹͍͚̜͚͇̘͕̘̻̥̬̝̥͚̼̬̝̳͙͙̤̫̳̥̜̱̰̞̣̻̦̪̱̓̏̋̉̏͑̋͂̄̀̈́̔̌͂̔̅̑̏̀̔͑̆̋̓̋̏̋͛̈́̉͊̒̀̋̋̽͑̈́͑̾̌̓̈́̽̽͊̄͌̒̒͑̊̑̔̅̌̽̊̀̑̃̽̅̔͋̈̋̔̇͌̄̿̉̄̆̽͋̽̐̉̈̏̒̄̊̔̎͊̀͌͆͗̊̋͋͐͒̽̀̏̀͆̈̔͒̽̅̏́̓̎̽͗͌͛̉͂͋͑̑͒͌̂̐̾͌̒̄͊̑̂͆̋̀̒̃̽͑̆̌͌̊̌̾̏͌͆̾̆͌̑̚͘̚͘͘̚̚͘͘̚͘̕͘̚̕͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅͅ ̶̧̡̨̢̡̧̢̛̛̛̛̛̛̛̦͙̲̼̞͇͕̗̖̞̳̖̩͉̩͔͎̭̯̣̩̠̖̹̺̦͖̞̥̦̲̻̪͇̭̟͚͖̤̮͚̰̺͖̼̫̞̝̹̩̖̫̖͔̣̲͔͙̣̹͕̯̫̪̜̭̹͉̺͉̮̤̭͚͍̦̦͈͔̞̜͖̣̳̫͓̳̮͉̫̞̖̞̲͕̞̭̗̰̺̠̹͔̱̳͖̦̻̜̥̫͓̥̗̤̫̈́̌̀̿̔́̓̇̂̈́̿̈̒̈́̈́̔̄̓́̿̀̀͌͑̅́̐͗̄̉̈́́́̏͆̈́͛̀͊̔̍̆̑͊͑͆͛̐͛͗̑̏̍̂̀͒͐͑͊̓̋̎̀̈̂̂̀͑̔͛̀͐̂̓̑̑͋̔̋́̓̌̃͛̊͛͆͗̾͆̆̄͂͛̏̎̎͛̅͌͐͒̐͊̋͗̐͊͛̄̓̄͌̇̂͊̏͒̒͑͆̃̌̊͊͋̔͂́͗̒͊̑̒̕͘̚͘͘͘͘͘̕̕͘̕̚̕̕̚͘͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅ ̷̢̢̡̨̧̨̡̧̧̡̡̢̧̡̨̢̡̛̛͉͉̰̳̦͉̝̟̫̲͔̩͔̱͚̣͚̪͍͔̮̱̦͇͉͚͔̱̹͖̰̼͙̥̤̙͇̪̭̝̫͈͉̼̠̺̲̺̖͉̹̬̖̹̖̥͕̞̖͕̼̠̜͎̜̣͔̞̩͇̮̣̘͓͇̻̙̟̱̞̥̯̥̙̙̭͓̼̟̟̝͕̫̥̦͖̺̩̭̬̦̤͓̥̳͚̖̹̩̮͓̘͍͓͈͙͉̖̝͓̦͖̩͇͙̪̦͚̞̹̞̞̳̮̼͚̙̙̠̪͍̹̘̭̮̘̰̹̝͈̃̄̿͊̿̐̾̈͐̀̄͑̾̓̓́̈́̏͆̀̂̇̋̅̈́̎̑͛͌̋́̃̉̐͐̔́̉̇̇̉̒̎̈́̀̾͊̒̌̋̑̀́̍̃̏̎͂͐͗̒̔͗̿̉̾̃̋̾͋̔̊̎͒͑͒͆͊͂̆̒͛͗̿̾̽͌̔̿̿̾̚̚̕͘̕̚̕̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̸̧̢̨̧̡̢̢̡̧̡̢̢̡̡̢̧̡̢̢̡̢̨̛͈͕̭̬̟̞͓̱̰͔̤͈̼͓̯̝͔͉̮̗̙̩̙̣̦̖͙̤̙̜̫̟̪̖̻͙̝͎͎̲̰̬̜͇̖̭͇̘͖̫͎͕̝̝̳̣̰͓͎͕͙̺͖̗̘̦͈̩̝̦̘̦̱̱̲̬̙̗̖̳̺͇̪͓̯̤̹͇͈̹̮̪̦̦͕̙̠̝͉̺̩̲͙̫̳̪̯̳̙̜̯̝̹̫̩͙͈̘̫͔͖̦̠͍͍͖͈͈̲͍̗̣̝̩̲̝̻̻̠͉͓̻̗͕̞͍̯̯͈̞̺̻̯͙͖̖͎̣̝̜̟͍̗̥̼͇̻̙̳͍̹̹̫̝̖͖͇͚̤̼̲̟̯̰͛̏̀̈͆͂̏̉̆̒́͂̊̂͊̈́́̋̈̒͑̇̋̓͊̽̌́͗̑̊̽͐̀͛̔͘͜͜͜͜͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̡̡̧̧̧̢̧̡̡̨̡̧̨̡̢̨̢̧̨̢̜͓̣͍͔̜̝̱̱̼̣̭̤͕̼̣̗͖̙͇̦͈̳͎̺͈̠̣̺̼͕̙͙̞̩̻̜̩̪̪̖̫̩͎͚̼̜͉̬͕̻̗͔̩͖̖͓̝̘̦̞̩̞̯̟͚̘̟̤͕̻̺̦̳̬̮̘̫̻̰̩̞̲͚͖̜̫̝͔̫̤̤̞̺̱̥͕̬̰̪͙͓̳͓͔̻͙͍̻̦̰̱̣̳͚̠̦̥̥̙̩̤̠̩̣̙̩̙̦̻̙̬̼̫̜͚̥͙̟̟͈̤͔̰̼̫͔̙̪̗̠͖̤͔͇̖̳̳͈̩͙̰̣̰̲̰̻̦̗̟̞̱͚͖̪͔̲͔͉͙̪͓̩̠͉̯̠͕̺̠̣̰͚͖̪̭̖̝̳̤́̅͛̋̂͐̌͜͜͜͜͜ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̸̨̨̨̡̡̢̧̨̨̨̨̢̛̛̛̮̘̼̪̯͉̳͓̻͎̣̪̣̠̗͉̥̰̝͉̤̲̮͍̘̱͕̘͓̺͇̞͖̩̞̗͚͕͖͙̯͍̙̖̦̙̺̞̪̱͍̥̙̼͉̳͇̘͉̞̲̘͔͕̥̳̦͔͓̭̤͓͈̟̩̣̣͕͕̜͈̩̬̖̙̭̼͓̦̝͙͔̲̜̦̰͙̹̼̤͕͈̣̳͕̼̺̯̫̟͓̠͚̟̺̙̪̝̠̣̗̭̻̯͖̺̩̩̜̟͕̱̤̞̱̠͓̝̩̹͚̦̖̥̘͈̝̙͕͚̲͂̇̒͌̓̎̄̀́͒̆̇͊̌̃́̔̈͋̆̅̈́̒̅͌́̉̅̍̾͒͛̐̄̋͑̈́̏̊̑̋̽͑̏̈́̅́̒̑̃͆̂̄̆̂̑̎̔̏̇̊̃̾͌̓̊͗̑̃̓̄͛͗̍͑̍̂̒̐̋̉̃̄͆̽̆̿̓̊͒̆͂̾̓̊͛̽̋͐̑͗͑̍̀̔̒̈̎́͛̉̋̓͐̾̒̈͂͑̀̉̾̓̅͗͐̂̃͋̾́̾̋̔̎̃͐͒̏̿͑̈̐̌͆̑͒̓͗͗͊̿̿͗͑̎͑̐̔͛͂̾̚̚͘̚̕̕̕͘̚̚̚͜͜͜͝͠͝͠͝͠͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝͝ͅ ̶̧̧̢̡̡̢̨̨̧̧̧̡̨̧̢̢̢̛̱͉̪̲͎͈̩̖̪̺̺̪̳̲̪͔̞̖̲̳̙̪̼̥̪͎͕̳̘̜̙̞̪̬̰̗̯̗͉͖̗̳̰̱̯͓̱͙̖͙͎̰̗͍̗̖̼̗̩̝̞̱̘͇̻͈͓̦̲̺̗͚̳̝͖̣̺͖̬͓̱̯͎̟͕͕̣̰̠̦̲̳̼͔̹̭̲͎̰̤̹͙͉̙͕̦̰̘̜͕̥̖̗͚̜͈̗͕̩̹̬̫̟̫̺̮̯͇̞̝̲͕̼̩͕̤͚̯̖̦̻̠̩̟̤͚͚̠̥̬̪̟̥̣͓̖̰͓̠̩̫̳͓̳̪̱̼̲͉̻̙̗͈̺̣͕̪̟͈͖̝͎͈͍͉̝̪̮̤̠̞̬̲͉̮̟̪̙̮̘͔̫͓̤̀̑̓̒͛͐͋͋̀̎̏̾͂̓̊̆̀͐̽͗̑͋͊̏͋͑̽͐̈́̄͋̄̔̋́́̿͐̾̓̄̈͆̄̂̉̾̂̕̚͘̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̢̢̨̧̛̬̝̰͎̭̗̰̪͕̜̱͓̫̣̱̟̲̘̞̤̝̘̖͙̲̱̯̰̐̅̆̄̃̾̄̈́͆̒͑͒̐̄̂́͌̊̒̿̇́́̿̔͊̉͋͌̉͐͒̽̋̑͐̈́͂̊̿͒̍̾̅̃̏̐̋̇̈́̎̿̌̿̃̎̽̏͑͒̀̅͊͂́̂̐̎̒̎̌̎̎̋̀͌̃̎́͒̾̂̽͑͌̏̇͂̎͌͒̿̃̍͐̓̐͂͑͂͋̆̔̃̍̒͋̐͆̌̒̅̀͘̕̚͘͘̚̚͘͜͠͝͝͝͝͝ͅ ̵̡̧̢̡̨̨̡̡̧̨̢̡̡̡̡̟̩̣̞̼͕̬͍̫̪̠͕̜̰̭͕͙̭̹̥͓͔̼͈͍̯̖̜̠̳̥͔͖͕̭͖͕̬̳̘̰̞̹̜͖̱̩͉̣̣̞͎̦̫͙̬͍͈͍͈̝̞͇̲̪̰̮̘̲̠͙̙͔͙̣̞̳̟̗̙̯͕̘̤̰͚̮͔̼̬̳̞̺̻̪͚̗̝̜͍͈̫͈̖͔͚̗͕̟͛̽̓́̈́͂͊̒͌̌̉̂͐̈́͊̋͒̀́̀̃̀̋͐̓̈͊͗̄͂͑̇̀͂̑̽͊͛̂͒̏͒͛͑̾̒̎̇̈́̓̎́͑̂̓̑͌͑̎͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̡̡̨̧̢̧̧̨̡̡̢̡̢̨̧̨̛̛̛̠̬̪͇̝̰̖͈̩̘͙̬̹̪͚̭̤̝̲̫̠̫͕̦͕̙̘͈̦͎̮̠͙͍̭͖͕̞̫̹̙̩̼̖̝̮̹̩̰̩̩̬̣̮͔̺͙̹̣̖̩͈̥̲͕̯̬̳͕̝̫̠̥̫̙̹̟͉̦̖̠̬͇̰̹̮̘̯̮̟̰͕̠͍̮͎̤̦͕̯̦̞͙̻͓̗͍̦͔͇͇͚̩͎̺͈̼͖̤̤̥͚͉͍̹̖̠̹͚̩͎̝̠̳̬͍̯͚̘̙̹̰̜̥̘͎̤̫͈͇̘̲͕̯̺̳̟̫̯͕͙̗̠̦̟͇̤̺̦̩̘̥̜̠̼̤̮͕̞̗̲̻̯̮̦̠̮͖̗̼̤͂́̓̆̈́̎̽̂͗͋̄̓̓̂͐́͂̒̆̇̐̄̀̈́̂̓̏͗̑̈́́̆̋̐͐̈́̈́̉͐͛͗̈̍̀̂͆̈́̀̓͋͆̽́̒̅͊̄͌̇̌͗̏̏̈̂̓̊͂̊͗̑͐̇͋̄̇̈̎̌͗̌̊̎͑̿͑̉̾̏͌̇͆̇̇̉̎̾̃̓̆͑̍̃͌̅͌̉̓̀̋̂͊̊̑̆͊͊́̏͗͛͌̕̚̚̚̚͘̚̕͘̕͘̚̕̕̕͜͜͜͜͠͠͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̵̢̛̛̛̛̖̯̤̘̤͚̠̫̻̬͗́̿̔̐̀̈́̄̔̄́̓̾̒́̽͂́̅̾͑̊̐͒̅́̏̒̿͌͐̿̔͋̑͂̈́̔̈̀̓͋́͂̿́̅̋̓̾̾̇͗̆͋̄͆̈̏̓͋̿̇̿̎̉̒̉̎̇̍̊͐͌͛͌͑̃̈͊͛͗͐̿̇͊̇̈͊̇̔̉͆̑̌̾͊̽̍̊̇̀̂̅̀͊̈̊̔͆̅̇̆̅̌̐̄̏̂̐͒̽̾̉̾̓̆̄̏̏̿̎̆̌̋̄̊͑̽̅͒̅̐̎̆͐̑͌̒̽͂̔̈͊̃̎̇̑̆͊̏͂̎͛͛̂̓͆͒̋́̐̋̃̈̀̾̊͐͋̓̽̅̍͗͒͊̐̚̕͘̕̕͘̚͘͘̚̕͘̕͝͠͝͠͠͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͝ ̷̧̢̢̡̨̢̨̢̨̢̡̢̨̨̢̡̡̛̘̹̥̘̦̹̖̙̫̬͎̬̙̦̥̠̦̮̜͕͙̬͚͈̦̱̠̟̠̝̱͖̦̥̯͕̲͈̥̻̻͉̲̭̗̞̪̹̺̝̯̖̖̘̭̞̜̖̗̗̮͙̱̦̤͉̼̥̮̙̭̪͉̭͍̟̺̜̫͓̩͖̥͔͕̤̘͙̥̟̘̥̲̟̱͚̗͈̭͍̲̠̯̦̳͔̲̣̪̮̺͙̞̘̤̫̟̬̘̣̱͕̆̐̎̿̎̒́̄̓̄̍̎̆͊͐̈́̂̀͐̒̍̀͗͌̍̅͗̐̎̈́̉͆̓͘͜͜͠͝͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̷̧̧̢̧̧̧̢̢̧̨̡̢̢̹͔̺̘͉̮̻̖̫̺̺͉̹̗̟̹͙͈̣͉͈̞͉̣̪̟͇̮̖̱̦͇̺̻̻̰͇͉͖̥̤̙̙̲̭͓͈̮̹̙͙̘̝͇̠͓͚͙̩͚͖̙̠͇̠̯̮̟̻͚̠̥̜̻͎̩̘̹͓͓̣̪̱͈͔̩̗̗̠͓̞̰̯̣̩̠̫̼͓̳͓̤͚̹̘͙̣͇̺̰̬͍͕̫̦̺̭̝̜̝̲̭̖̺̌͒̽̀͆̿̅̅͊̑̂̿̇̌͛̽̿͊͊̉̈́̂̾̔̈́̀̅͛́̒̄̊̾̔̐͋̏͐̆̈́̊̕͘͘͜͜͜͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅ ̵̧̡̡̡̨̨̨̢̨̧̡̡̡̨̡̨̨̧̨̢̧̢̢̢̛̛̞̲̜͖͖͕̰̟̺̖̭̤̣̺̼͉͓͙̲̯̪̹̬̜͎̖̭̫͇̦͍̖̪̩̲̝̹͉̱͈̩̲̱̫̺̬̭̰̼̖̻̮̦͍̳͚̝͕̻͚̻͍̹̣̠͉̤̮̯͍̙̩̦̳̭̜̟̙̰̣̦̟͕̙͓̞̫͈̬̯͔̱̤̰̘̻͔̘͓̻̤͚̩̱͔̘̝̠̖̺̟̠̯̘͍̩̻͓̰͍͈̠̙̦̬̮̯̱̙̤̰͔͓̘͙͎̻͙̼͈̥͔̖͉̲͙̩̞͙̦̩̻̺̜̼̝̮̖͎̮̱̹̯̰̼̤̥̙͍̖̗͖̫̮̠̙͓̟̱͔̳̮͓̮̬̪̳̰̰̹̪̤̣͖̃̇̅̇̏͗́̈́̃̓͗́̅̆̃͑̉͛͗́̌̽̂̈́̎̅͒͌͗͛̊̀̓̔̑̍͌̒̄́̌͊͌̐̄́̽̇̌̃͑́͒͆̊̔͆̒̄̆͒̑̒͂̑̈̒̋͒̎͛̿̆̄̊͛̾̓̇̄͌̍̿̃̏̉̊́̊͒̓̿́̾̇͆͌͑̐̒̾̊̏͒͋̋̆̊͛͊̓͘̚̕̚̚̚̚͘͘͘̚͘͘͜͜͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̨̛̛̛̮̱̟̂͂̏͑͒͌̍͂̃̈́́̂̇̏̉̋̂̄̍̅̎̈̄͗̿͂͐̿̿̅͐̎̓͒̽̍̉̀̒͋̈́̄͋̅̿̐̋̐̓̑͛͌̈̇̉̋̇̂̌̍͆̎̽͌̔̾̉̍̂̂͊̊̂̏͆̒̾̂̆̽͒̍͐̀͌̎̅͛̂̌͐̇͂͑̄́̓̍̐̅͗͌͐̿̽͊̀̊͆̃̿̄͒̃̀̈̍̊̊̉̏̊̏͒͗̔͛̑̐͛̂̉̄̔͑͊͌̓͂̄̆̄̿̃́͛̐̂̀͛̊̅̄̋̽̈̾̉̄̏͐͊͑̐̄̎́͗͑̌͆̈͆̽̔̎̉̈̋͑̾̾̾̐͘͘͘̚̚̕͘͘̕̕͘͘͜͝͝͝͝ ̷̡̢̡̢̨̢̡̧̢̨̡̨̢̧̧̢̨̧̡̛̜͕͚̜̪̺̠͈̖̳̬̺̬͙͓̪̬͎̭̪͔̫̭͖̜̥̜̥̱̲̰̗͖̙̜̩͇̼̝͎̗̗̼̟̤̩͚̙̯͇̖͔̹̪͎̝͔̼̗͇̼̯̰̤͉̥͇͇̞͖̣̮̫̜̬̦̘̲̝͎̬̠̪̬̞̫̠̠̘̘̼͎̺͉̳̺͎̭̣̲̥͚̘̺̥͇͇̭̫̝̪͉̹̥̠̭͎̼͇̼̪̲̰̰̳̙̖͍͈̪̰̲̬̙̤̭̗̹̣͖̼̻̣̪̻̼̮̪̳̠̖̫̼́̋̿̾͌̔̂̈̂̊̊̈́̍̔͆͒͒̒̏̍͗̊̃͗͌͊̆̒͆͋̐̈́͒̈́̈́̎̆͆͗̈̅̇͗͑͌̃̿̿̐̋͌͂̔͋̍̾͆̅̈̎͗̇̂͆͒̄̿̈̀̿̆̍̊̊͌̓̇̐̄͋̂̓̐̐̀̀͌̄̏͋̈̄̿͆́͒͒̌̂͌̑̂̐͛̇͌͂̅̓͒̾͛͐̇̒̒̚͘̚̕̕̕͘͘̚̕͘̚̕̚͘͜͜͜͜͜͠͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͝ͅͅͅͅͅ ̶̨̡̨̧̡̧̨̨̧̢̡̡̧̛̛̛̲̦͔̟̫̫̬̝̣̜̙̟̤̪͖̺̣̤̩̳͎̪̥̫̱͙̯̥͓̯̠̗̻̖͚̦̳̪̣̘̼̜̤̺̙̠̲̭͓̬̰̱͓͖͚̹̫̬̤̘͚͖̠̩̖͓̜̩̭̪̥͕̦̪̰̘̭̹̟̼̯̗̦̗̣͍̱̣̹̞͇̱̳̘̙̟̝͍̮̺̱͙̺̟̞̟̝̩̞̯̲̘̣͕͇̪̬̬͚͔̦̯̮̳͎͉̲̮̬͇͍̫̙̟̟͕͔̘͇̹̭̳̦̰̥͓͇̝͇̪̼͓̘̩̺̺̲̥̺̤͉̰͍̖̻͔̝̖̙́́͐́́̏̿͗̍͊̔̇̽͒͆̊̏̅̌͒̈́̂̂̎͆̋̋̏͛̀̂̈́̀̔̄͗̃͆̾̔̔̽̐̊̄̓̊̾̏̓̏͋̔̂̓̇̌̔͌̈͂̿̄̎̾̂̍̆͋͋̋̓͛̂̉̅̊̉̋̆̑̐̆̿̿͆̓̌͐̃͑͋́͒̈̀̇͗̍̐̄̔̉̑̄͊̀̂̋̈͌͗̔͊͛̇͒̑̇̌̒͆̽͂̄͛̉͒̂̒̔͆̉͑͛͐͂͘͘͘̕̚̕̚̚̚̚̕͘͜͜͜͜͠͝͠͝͝͠͝͝͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅ ̴̡̧̡̨̧̡̛̛̳̩̥̱̪̖͈̦͙̮̯̝̮̲̪̼̞͕̯̲̯͚̹͈̥̳̮̰̖̳̬̺̯̪̥̪̬͙̟͍͓̠̘̞̖̜̝̙̳̟̼͈̮̭̱̣͓͈͇͉͎̞͚̯̱̳̝̮̠̹̘͕̅̆͋̋̈́̈́̈̆̓͊̉́͆̑͑̀̊̂͒̄̑̂̊̍̂̈̏̄̈̋̌͒̋͂͛̊̃̌̿̏̀̽̈́̊̅̈́͌̒̌̎̌̔̾̑̉͛̑̇̎̅́͆̏̃̈̾̐̎͋̈͛̉̌͋̑̍̌͊̿͌̏̉̌͊̇̿̒͛̐̍͂̓̉̈̈͋̌̉̑̐̍̌̈̊̌͆̾̽͒͐̃͛͗̑͆̍̑̈̃͒̾͐̽̐͒̾͗͊̒̿̏͊̈̏̎̍̍͐̽̇̎̊̎̅͂̋̀̆͂͂͊̐̋̏̎̽̓̿̾̽̀̊̃͛̈̑̄̆͌͐̅͂͗͗̽̑̅͂̒̂͘̚͘͘̚̚͘̚̚̕̕̕̕̚̕̕͜͠͝͠͠͝͠͝͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝ͅͅ _

_ _

_ ̵̧̡̧̨̢̢̛̛͙̞̣̳͎̭͖͉̺̟͔͙̦͈̺͖̥̮̪̱̤͓̠̜̯͇̬̫̫͙̞̠͎̘̭̥̭̼̘͎̜̪̣̗̻͖̘͓̳̳̩̞͚̻̰̫͚͚̟̠̥͔̟͇̤͖̾̾͊̈̈́͌͐̈́̍̽̃̈́̓̀̇̈́̋̾̓̈͋͆̆̀̓̈̒̃̇̀́͒̆̆͂̊̂̒̋́͗̐̓͛̇̐͋̓̔͊̔̀̔͆̊͘̕̕͘̕͜͜͠͝͝͠͝ _

 

_.  _

 

_ Please no, Poison begged to himself. More pills were shoved into his mouth but he was so invested in the footage he let them slide down his throat. _

_ ̷ _

_ ̴“̸Y̵o̷u̷’̴r̷e̵ ̶s̷h̸o̸w̷i̸n̵g̸ ̷s̷i̵g̵n̸s̸ ̸o̸f̵ ̷r̷e̸l̷a̵p̸s̵e̸,̶ ̴w̷e̷ ̴m̸u̸s̵t̵ ̴t̴a̴k̷e̸ ̶y̶o̴u̴ ̶i̶n̶ ̴f̷o̷r̷ ̸a̴n̶o̷t̴h̴e̴r̸ ̸p̶r̵o̸c̵e̵d̷u̵r̵e̸,̶”̷ ̸E̵x̴t̴e̵r̵m̴i̸n̷a̶t̷o̸r̶ ̷W̶a̵y̵ ̴m̶o̸n̸o̴t̶o̵n̵e̷d̴.̸ ̷M̸r̷.̶ ̴I̶e̶r̵o̴ ̸c̶h̷o̶k̶e̵d̴ ̶b̸a̸c̴k̶ ̸a̶ ̵s̵o̴b̸ ̵f̴o̶r̵ ̸o̷n̸e̶ ̵s̶e̵c̸o̸n̴d̷ ̸b̵e̶f̵o̵r̴e̸ ̵i̷t̷ ̶t̴o̸r̶e̶ ̶f̵r̶o̴m̷ ̷h̴i̶s̵ ̸t̶h̷r̸o̷a̷t̸.̶ _

_ _

_ ̷“̴N̶o̷!̶”̶ ̵h̴e̷ ̴s̷c̷r̸e̸e̴c̵h̸e̸d̷,̴ ̸b̸a̷n̴g̸i̷n̵g̷ ̵a̷n̴d̸ ̶k̶i̸c̸k̵i̴n̷g̴ ̴a̷g̸a̴i̵n̷s̸t̶ ̴t̵h̸e̸ ̷e̷x̶t̵e̸r̸m̶i̵n̵a̷t̸o̵r̵.̵ _

_ ̷ ̷ _

_ ̵“̷P̶l̴e̵a̵s̵e̷!̸ ̷N̴o̶!̴ ̶I̷’̵l̵l̷ ̴d̷o̷ ̸a̷n̷y̷t̷h̴i̷n̴g̷!̶ ̷I̶’̷l̴l̴ ̸g̴e̵t̷ ̴t̴h̵a̶t̵ ̴s̶t̵u̶p̷i̶d̵ ̷h̴a̵i̸r̴c̶u̵t̷ ̶e̸v̴e̵n̸!̷ ̴P̸l̸e̶a̴s̷e̸ ̷j̵u̸s̴t̶-̶”̷ ̷E̶x̶t̵e̶r̶m̵i̴n̷a̵t̵o̵r̷ ̸W̴a̸y̵ ̸g̴o̶t̸ ̶o̶u̴t̵ ̷a̶ ̸s̴m̵a̸l̷l̴ ̴b̷l̷a̴c̶k̶ ̷r̸e̶m̶o̴t̸e̶ ̵t̴h̴i̵n̷g̷ ̶a̵n̶d̸ ̴p̴r̷e̶s̶s̸e̸d̵ ̷a̴ ̴b̵u̷t̸t̴o̶n̷ ̵o̸n̷ ̸i̷t̸.̴ ̴T̸h̸e̵n̶ ̶M̸r̵.̴ ̸I̸e̷r̸o̷ ̷b̵e̷c̵a̵m̴e̷ ̶e̷e̷r̸i̶l̴y̷ ̷s̶i̸l̵e̶n̵t̵,̵ ̷b̵u̸t̷ ̵t̷h̷a̷t̴ ̶d̶i̸d̸n̴’̷t̸ ̶s̴t̶o̵p̷ ̵h̴i̴s̸ ̸t̶h̸r̸a̴s̷h̵i̷n̵g̶.̶ ̶ _

_ ̴ ̶ _

_ ̴M̵r̴.̷ ̷I̷e̶r̷o̴ ̴t̴r̴i̸e̸d̵ ̶t̵o̶ ̸l̶e̶t̴ ̸o̵u̷t̸ ̴a̸n̷o̶t̵h̷e̵r̵ ̵s̷h̴o̶u̷t̷ ̸b̵u̴t̴ ̴t̷h̸e̴ ̸m̶o̵m̸e̴n̸t̵ ̵h̷e̴ ̵o̶p̷e̶n̸e̵d̸ ̶h̸i̸s̶ ̵m̷o̴u̷t̷h̴ ̵h̷e̵ ̸l̵e̷t̵ ̵o̵u̸t̶ ̶a̷ ̷l̶o̸u̴d̶ ̷g̴u̵t̷t̵u̷r̶a̸l̷ ̸s̸h̷r̶i̸e̷k̷.̴ ̴H̷i̵s̸ ̷t̷o̵n̷g̸u̴e̴ ̶s̶t̴u̴c̴k̸ ̶o̸u̴t̶ ̵t̸o̸ ̶r̴e̶v̷e̸a̴l̵ ̸a̴ ̴t̷a̷s̶e̵r̵ ̵f̸a̴s̸t̴e̶n̸e̵d̸ ̷t̴o̴ ̷h̷i̸s̵ ̵t̴o̴n̴g̸u̷e̷.̶ ̶T̴h̴e̸ ̵w̵i̴r̵e̷s̸ ̴g̸l̶o̸w̸e̵d̴ ̴c̸u̵r̸e̸l̸y̸ ̷w̶i̵t̶h̷ ̵b̸l̷u̴e̸ ̸e̷l̵e̷c̴t̷r̷i̸c̸i̴t̵y̴.̵ _

_ _

_ ̵“̴P̷l̸e̵a̸s̴e̷!̶ ̴M̵a̴k̴e̵ ̶i̸t̵ ̴s̸t̶o̴p̸ ̶i̶t̷ ̸h̵u̸r̷t̷s̴!̷”̴ ̸h̷e̸ ̸w̴h̴i̷m̷p̵e̵r̴e̸d̷.̵ ̴M̵o̷r̸e̶ ̶b̵l̶o̶o̵d̵ ̵s̵l̴o̸b̸b̶e̸r̷ ̶r̸a̸n̷ ̴f̸r̷o̷m̵ ̵h̴i̵s̷ ̴m̴o̶u̶t̸h̸.̴ ̶ ̶ _

_ _ _ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ _

_ _

_ _

_ ̴̱͉̽̂̈̓̍̉̌̓̚̕█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

 

_ ̷ _

 

_ Poison bit his lip until he tasted blood, he wasn’t going to let himself react _ _. _

 

_ That's what His Mother wanted. _

_ _ _ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ _

_ W̴̛̘̩͇̽͐̍͗̀h̸̢̜̜̠̒̑̿́̈͒͝o̸͙̻͚̟͆̊͐̓̕͘͘'̵̭̬͂̊̅̎̎̔̄s̷͚̣̭͝ ̶͖͇̖̄̌̍̇t̵̛̻̞̪̪͙̀̚h̵̜͖̪̲̔̃̑̑̓e̸̫̞̠̣͉͌̄́̿͜͝ ̴̨̩̙͂́͐̈́k̴̳̭̂́̌i̴̧̲͈̥̅͛̐͒̀̋l̷̫̜̩̈́͒̔̐̌̓l̴̙̦̰͒͐̎̈͒̽̄e̶͚̣̞̻̦̜̠̿͐̿r̷̥͉̦̖͒̾,̸̭̠̲̞̬̩͉̔͑̽̍͋̊ ̶̢̡̲̙̿͂̈͆̚ͅw̵͎̬͓̤̳͈̻̏̋̀͝ḩ̵̛̳͓͓̐̇̽̕ȏ̵̺'̶͉̠͉͍̦̭̖̇̋́̽͂ş̷̝͋ ̵̗̈́̎̈́̓͐͠t̷̤̞͖͋͂̓͋̋̓͘h̵̢̡̹̣̬͖̓̽̍̒̚͠ë̶͔̣́̋̍͜͠ ̵̧̨̧͔̓̑ͅk̷̨̮̺̹̓̈́i̸͈̠͒l̷̞͌̊̓̋̍̈́̋ͅl̶̢̡͉̤͉̀̈́̎͐̃e̴̢̮̘̝̮̜̓̄͊̈͛̿̓r̸͙͖͔͔̣͕̈́͋̂,̵̨̠̆̓̽͑̕͜ ̵͕̀̆͐̏w̸͔̗͈̼̰̝̚ͅh̵̢͂́̊̄ȯ̶͔͉'̵̤͚̹͌̾͆͜͝s̴͚̳̎̉̌ ̷̧̖͎̻͛͒̉̆͗̒t̸̛̖̙̦̼̾̓̃ẖ̸͇̖̘͖͗̀̾͘e̶̢̙̖͛̿͌̈́̾̈́ ̸̧̦̖͈̙̅ǩ̴͈̳̣͜ỉ̷̢̤̙͍̖̝̋̐̊̉́̾ͅl̴̥͉̭͔͗͗͋ͅl̶̡̧̢̥̳̗͚̉̾̏e̴̥̠̰̤͉͍͍̅͋͊̈́̆̀͠r̴̨̧͍̍,̴̺̙͓̖͓͒̎̂̃̆͂͜ ̶̞̲̇ẃ̸̙̪̔͊̉ͅh̸̼͓̑͗͊͒ǫ̶͙͖̞̗̽̂̾̍'̸̞̃̔̾̏͛̄s̸̹͎̳̟͉͕̓̋͋͒̀͊̕͜ ̷̳̳͖̙͈́̈́͒̒̉͗ͅͅt̶̛̻͕͑̅͆h̶̦̤͉̞͗͂̐͊͘͝ȇ̵͉͓̦̃̈͋ _

_ ̴̱͕̞̪͇̥͒B̴̬̯̑̆͐͆͂͐ͅa̷̖̠͕͎͈͓͛͋͝ĉ̸̟̺̟͈̮͙̙̀͂͒̏́̒k̶̠̩͚̘͈̮̍̀͑̀͑́͝ ̴̛̺̮̩͈̻̟͎̃̎͑̏͛̚ŗ̸̦̥̆o̷͎̰͔̺̽̉͊̚͜u̷͍̠͐̀̄n̸͎͓͙̤̪̞̒̾̌͝͝d̶͇͈̔͝ ̴̧͔͖̩̱̹̣͂̑(̶͔̯̥̆ͅW̵̢̫̬̘̞̔̊́̒̎h̸̜͝o̸̲̺̤̠̺̍ͅ'̵͔̖̥͙̔̄̽s̶̼̘̰̪̥̼͙͐ ̷͇̮̪̩͖̰̀̃̌̓̿̚͝t̴̡̘̜̼̻͇͌̓̽͜͝h̵͔̫̯̙͓̲̀̍͂̆̕e̵̡̨̪̬͍͗̐̈́͂͜͠͝ ̸̧̝̳̀̏́̑̌͘͝ķ̴͎̦̗̏ì̴̛͖͈̔̒̐̃ĺ̶̡̛̈́͆l̸̡̩̜̪̭̿̐͝ẽ̷͍͉̠̮̫r̵̛͕͚͕̪̠̾͆͒̈̂,̴͖̭͇̍͋͌̽͝ ̴̧̳̝̋̎̿̂w̷̛͖̦͙̔̊̿̇͝h̶̩͂͂̍͛̕͠o̸̠͓̼̣̗͂͐̾͘ͅͅ'̷̮̫̝̣̦̪̺͋̃͠ş̷̼̤͍̾̍̓̈ ̷̝̤̗̈́̈́̈́͋̅͠ţ̵̠̰͇̏̍̽̐̅͆h̴̢̡̡̨̞̀̅͊ẽ̷͇̹͉͓̗̞͍̏̐̌͘ ̶̨̤͇̺̩͛͜ͅk̵͔͔̗͎̚i̴̧̻̙̘͎̯̽͐͑̅͜l̸̥͓̝̆̅͜l̵̨̮͖̹͎͑͂̀͂̿ͅȩ̵͔̱̠͙̗̀̓̈́̍͘ȓ̶̨̨̻͚̝̍́,̸̖̟̺͔̏̀ͅ ̴͍̒w̷̺̄͋̓́͒͋h̵̢̟̯̟͐͋̍͑ŏ̸̤̜͌̂̋͊̾̚͜'̵̨̙̼̻͓̘̼̈͒̿̓̓s̷͚̮̙̋̍̃̾̊ͅ ̵̧̝̝́̊̔ṭ̸̫̤̠̰̲͔̋̋͋̓̓̆h̶̭̮̒̀̕͘͠͠e̸̛͖̫̼̩͓͒̆͊̋)̴̩̇͂͒̅̃̃ _

_ ̴̼̪̱̀̂͝S̷̫̹͗͛͊̓̽̓̚o̴̢̻͐̀̍̅̀ ̶̱̟̰͌m̸̜̱̭̭̣͗̿͊͒̄û̶͔͚͉̟͕͈͈͆͠͝c̸͈͈̻͂̽͘͝ͅh̶͇̹͎̮̱̊̂ ̸̫̭̤̭̫͙̳̈́͐̔̌̽͠b̴͍̬̟̬̽ḷ̵̐͌͐̉ō̴̧͔͈̰̣͑͝ͅȏ̵͉̖̘̀̚͜d̵̙̘̟̘͓̥̾̎̅̎̅̚,̵̢̢̘͎̼͒͊͌̏ͅ ̶̝̅̾͂͗̎I̴̥̮̥̾̆͐́ ̴̧̘̝͈̝̞̃̒͊̕̚͘f̴̨͖̼̻͂͑̉e̵͎̗̜̗͓͖͐͠é̸̡̛͕̯̂̋̈́l̵͚̰̣͒̈́̾̉ ̵̧̡̦̹͈̦̭̉̒̊̈́̎͝ṇ̶̛̯̍̃͠ò̴̪̘̞͋̎̂̓̾̕t̶̡̬̻̻͚͗͛̏̅̅̍h̵̢͝ḯ̷̦̬͙ņ̷̛̙̗͎̺̂ģ̶͎̝̪̣̫̜̽̆̓̓̃ _

_ ̴̨̰̜̜̠̪̻͛̇̇W̵̟͓͋͌͘͠͝h̸̡̘̰̩̯̞̭̒̊ǭ̵̖̗̻̳̙̲̇'̶͎̝̐͛̈́ș̶̨̬̘̘͕̔̇̊̈́̐͂ ̵͖̯̈́t̸͔͍̬̻̜̀̌̋̓͠h̶̨̖̘̤̺́̑͘e̸͙͒͑̏̅͆̚ͅ ̷͔̻̪̪͋͌̓͝k̴͚̰̺̗͂̓͒i̸͙̋͛̋̎́̈́ļ̸̯̜͚͉͊̊̕l̴̼̯͎͙̭͌̔e̶͍͋̅͘ŗ̴̦̠͑͋́,̸̢͈̘̲̒ ̷͈͈̝̣̍͒̈͂̉̉̆w̴͚͇̓̑̐̈́̚h̸̨̛͖͎̜͍͓͇̔́̑o̶̥̼͗'̷͎̙͖̾̈́͛s̶̪͌ ̵͓̗̘̻̯̎͆̈́t̷̲͖̞͆̑̌͘h̷̩̺͓̃̓̚̚͜e̷͕̫̣̜̝̯͌̿͋̉ ̷̢̬̒͗k̵̡̩̳̃̽̊̀̌ị̵̈̊̂ĺ̵̻̬̻̝̌̆̍̀̕͝l̷̜̰̪͖̮͕̉̈́͆͑͜ę̴̱̘̘̊̚r̸̼̬̼̘̟̋̋.̵̡̫̣͚̫̟̤͌̓.̸̨̨͙̭͓̲͛.̴͔̟͖̗̝̻̿ͅ _

_ ̴̠͉͖͉̝͓̿͋̇̉̐͘S̶͉̅͊͒͐ŏ̷͓̠ ̶̧̺̫̜̯͙̑͂m̷͍͖͈̅̿͘u̶̧̅̋̓̈́̆͊c̸̛͈͈͕͍͊͗͘ḩ̴̠͉̆̿̏͗́͗ͅ ̶̜̺̘͎͍̓̽b̴̛̛͈͖͎̠̥̈̾͊̈́l̷͇̋͐̋͆̉̐͝ǒ̴̬̗̤̓ȏ̵̦̩̙̘̩͕̊͌̈́̀̓d̵̫̘͙̊͗̆̈́̈́͐͜!̴̢̗̯̦̹͖̭̈́̏̌̋̍͗ _

 

_ _

_ ̴̱͉̽̂̈̓̍̉̌̓̚̕█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

 

_ ̷ _

 

_ Poison bit his lip until he tasted blood, he wasn’t going to let himself re _ _ █̸̧̡̨̠̱̣͔̘̝̜̦͓̬̻̟̮̭̰̙̞̪̳̮͍̀̌̒̓̋̓́͌͆̿͗́̃̌͗̌͋̇̎̿̔̆̊͘̚͜͠͠͝█̴̧̡̛͕͕̘̗̭̫̟̺͍͓̬̪̠̬̥̯̩̟̭͖̲̯̈́͌̍͋̑̓̀̀͋͛̔̈́̎͋̐͂̀̀̏͘͜͜͝ͅ█̴̨̨̛̺͔̟̫̮̱̖͈̯̙͉͔̰̹̍̍͆̀̌̀̌͝█̵̢̣̫͖̝̰̦̹̮̺͖̝̞̙̖̞̟͙͍͇̜͔͒͛͐̄̋̀̓͌̿̃̀͊̾̌̿̃͘̚͜͝█̵̡̺̲̝̙̗̝͉̯̯͚̚̚█̶͉̂̍̈͒█̷̨̢̛̞̲̳͚͓̝̲̪͙̊͛̿̈́͐̓̄͌̾́̍͗́̅̐̾̃̎͗̐͘͘͘͠█̶̧̨̢̛͓̘͍̻̯̦̲̥̞̠̩̬̦͗͒̌͒̈́̓͋̽͛́̋̌̐̐̃̿͒̑̋͋̉̿͌̉̐͠͝█̷̛̝̦̓̏͗́̀͂͋͌͛͑́̽͐͊̾̈́̈́̽͌̏̾̚͝͝͝█̸̨̧̢̪̟̺̺̺̤̮͉̭̫͕͙̥̯̬̦̏͗͊͋̑͐̊͒̍͒͋͘̚͜͠█̵̡̗͖͍̥̣̐͛̾̾͋̈͌͒͒̄̂̇̈́̚͝ _

 

 

_ E̵x̷t̴e̸r̴m̶i̴n̶a̴t̵o̶r̶ ̴W̴a̴y̷’̴s̸ ̶p̵a̷c̵e̷ ̶q̷u̶i̷c̷k̵e̴n̶e̶d̶ ̶a̶s̵ ̷h̴e̴ ̴c̶a̴r̷r̸i̴e̷d̸ ̷M̴r̶.̴ ̵I̶e̵r̶o̸ ̸d̸o̴w̵n̵ ̴t̷h̵e̵ ̶h̵a̸l̷l̷.̵ ̶H̸e̶ ̵l̸o̸o̷k̵e̵d̸ ̷l̸e̴s̴s̸ ̶a̵n̶g̴r̴y̶ ̶o̷r̴ ̴c̵o̷n̸c̴e̶r̴n̸e̴d̴ ̷a̶n̶d̴ ̷m̴o̶r̶e̷ ̴i̶r̷r̸i̴t̶a̶t̷e̷d̸.̸ ̴L̸i̷k̴e̷ ̶M̸r̴.̶ ̴I̶e̴r̷o̷ ̸w̵a̶s̴ ̴j̴u̶s̷t̵ ̸a̶ ̴t̸h̷r̶e̴e̶ ̴y̷e̷a̶r̵ ̵o̵l̶d̷ ̵b̴e̶g̷g̵i̷n̶g̴ ̶f̸o̶r̶ ̶i̸c̶e̵ ̷c̴r̶e̷a̷m̴ ̶i̵n̸s̷t̸e̷a̴d̵ ̷o̶f̷ ̷f̶o̵r̴ ̴t̸h̸e̴ ̷a̷b̴i̴l̵i̵t̴y̴ ̷t̷o̷ ̵t̵a̷l̷k̷ ̵w̵i̴t̵h̷o̴u̴t̶ ̵p̵a̶i̶n̷.̸ ̵ _

_ _ _ ̴ _ _ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ _

_ _

_ ̴̨̨̛̻̲̟̪̞͉̹̼̗͙̖̈̔̆̉͆̑̒́͋̔̐̕͠͝█̸̧̡̨̠̱̣͔̘̝̜̦͓̬̻̟̮̭̰̙̞̪̳̮͍̀̌̒̓̋̓́͌͆̿͗́̃̌͗̌͋̇̎̿̔̆̊͘̚͜͠͠͝█̴̧̡̛͕͕̘̗̭̫̟̺͍͓̬̪̠̬̥̯̩̟̭͖̲̯̈́͌̍͋̑̓̀̀͋͛̔̈́̎͋̐͂̀̀̏͘͜͜͝ͅ█̴̨̨̛̺͔̟̫̮̱̖͈̯̙͉͔̰̹̍̍͆̀̌̀̌͝█̵̢̣̫͖̝̰̦̹̮̺͖̝̞̙̖̞̟͙͍͇̜͔͒͛͐̄̋̀̓͌̿̃̀͊̾̌̿̃͘̚͜͝█̵̡̺̲̝̙̗̝͉̯̯͚̚̚█̶͉̂̍̈͒█̷̨̢̛̞̲̳͚͓̝̲̪͙̊͛̿̈́͐̓̄͌̾́̍͗́̅̐̾̃̎͗̐͘͘͘͠█̶̧̨̢̛͓̘͍̻̯̦̲̥̞̠̩̬̦͗͒̌͒̈́̓͋̽͛́̋̌̐̐̃̿͒̑̋͋̉̿͌̉̐͠͝█̷̛̝̦̓̏͗́̀͂͋͌͛͑́̽͐͊̾̈́̈́̽͌̏̾̚͝͝͝█̸̨̧̢̪̟̺̺̺̤̮͉̭̫͕͙̥̯̬̦̏͗͊͋̑͐̊͒̍͒͋͘̚͜͠█̵̡̗͖͍̥̣̐͛̾̾͋̈͌͒͒̄̂̇̈́̚͝█̴̢̨̡̳̪̦̞̞̞̜̱͙̦͙͙̫͓̟͍͍̳̪͈͎̙͕͎̈́̎̅̈́͜͜█̴̡̢̼̰͔̝̻͇̫̘͓̪̤̰̫̆̇̓̉͐̎͝͝͝█̶̧̣̖̿̿̏̊̎̅͊͊̚͝█̸̡̢̧̛͈̻̝̰̙̮͖͓̏̀͑̈́̑̅̽͋̇̓̑͗͛̈̾͆͒͒̎̇̋̓͊͛̒͗̕͜█̶̞̘̣͕̹̞͈͓̲̖͕̙͍̰͓͕̼̀́͗͒̒̄̆̇͋̈͒̉̏̄͗͂͐͗͒̇͑̕̚̕͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅ█̵̢͉͇̰̱͈̯̏̆̔̆͑͐̇͛̈́̈͆̓̍͘̚ͅ█̴̧̨̨̗̠̦͖͉̹͍̫̘̣̦̠̦̞̞̫̜̤̪͚̠̤̈͛̄͜͝ͅ█̸̲̹̏͌͐͊̈́̽̊͛̇̎̄͒̏̐́̈́͗͌̽̀̽█̵̡̡̢̛̱͉͙̝̦̻̱̤̜͙͉̼͉̭̦͚̪̭̘͍͉̪̟͍̒̈͆͐̈͑̄͜͜͠█̶̛͙̤͇̲̾̌́͋̐̆͑̿̔̑̀̋̐̉̋̕͘͝͠█̶̛̛͍̬̥̯̼̼͇͎͇̰̬̬͎̳͕̫͙̙͆͂̍̋̓̓̀͛̑̉͑̈́̚̚͜█̷̢͇̱͎͉̣͓̹͉̮͉̹̫͓͌̃̈́̿͂̂̔̿̓̍̐̊̏̓̇̍͊͐̍̾̕̕͠͠͠͝█̴͔̼̗̦̟̻̟̥̗̝͍̹̺̪͙̦̞̦͚̱̼̪̽̈̾̽́͆̆́́̂͘͝█̵̨̧̰͖̯͍̟̙̰͍̟̹̯͕̙̙̫̬̖̪̮͍͓̯̪̬̩̲̐͌̏͑̄̔͋̃̉͋̀̑͗͑̅̽̈́̍͗̏̐̉͑̈́̌̐͒͜͝͠█̸̡̨̻̳͇̮͖̹̮̮̝͓̩̺̜͉͓̫̩̙̻̝͍̥̆͘͜͝ͅ█̶̡̛͇̺̣͙̭̯̲͇͕̺͓͓͕̘̘͕͔͗̍̓̓̐̇͒͋̈́͐͑̃͋̎̀͆̄̉̀̿̌̚̚̚̕͠ͅ█̶̨̨͈͉̫̲͙͕̦̮̻͓͇́͐͑͐͑͗̈́́́̄̆̽̃̑ͅͅ█̷͉̉͐̀̇͂͊͋̆̀̍̓̎͠█̸̠̼̖̫̮̦̤͔̬̼̞̻̍̆̊̎̒̆͒̔͋͊͌̿̽̆̑ _

_ ̶̨̡̫̣̞͓͓̗̫͇͎̝̫̖̄̍̽̀͒̓͐́͒͋͒̐̇̈́̂̈̄̾̎̇̂͂͘͘͜͝█̵̨̛̞̻̤͓̫̯͉͚̺̲͎̮̺͚͓̣͍͗͑̓̾̇̓̓̿͜͜█̴̛͈̙̲̤̦͒͐̓̿͊̋͊̀̎̓̓́͠͠͝█̵̡͚͎͓̞̳̪͛̋̆̑͑̋̎́̿̈́͛̇͋̌̿͝͝█̶̞̞̜̱̰͔̔̒͐̊̾̅̾̾͘̚█̷̡͇̦̟̓̉̒̀̌̓̀ͅ█̴̢͉͇̪͎͎̖͙͔̙͔͇͓̳̠̠͔̗̣͐͌̇͑̉̐̈́̋̀̓̊̕͜█̶̝̼̜̀̀̄̀̃̍́̋̇̉͋̈́̚̚͝█̷̡͙̝̹̰̘͉̬̘̅͋̆̑͛̃̀̑ͅ█̴̢̡̗̙̪̰̭̤̗̻̺̮̲͎̈́̎̅͑̀͛͛͋͂͗̓̏̃͋̕͘͜█̸̢̢̯̻̰̩̻̙̹͈̣̗̖̪͙̈́̿̽̑̓͆͑́̒̔͗̀̈͊͌̈́̈̚͠͠͝█̵̢̡̣̝̙̯͚̼̙̬̻̘͖͓͈̫͈̞̩͖̭͈͙̠͔̟̩̹̍͑̀̇͗̈́̍͗̈́́͋̅́̿͂͝͝█̸̨̢̨̛̛̛̣̰͙̻̒̀̄͗̆̀͂͆̌͊͐͋̓̈͋́͆̆̽̾͆̓̚͘͝͝ͅ█̴̣͙̺̥̘͉̰͆̐̐̒̂̆̒͛͊̓͊̌͌́̚͝ͅ█̴̙̹͍͉̤̞̰͚̻̘̬̭̳͎̣̘̭͓̉̏̍͛̓̉̎͆͂̌͜█̶̧̯̫̣̩̱̙͓͎̤̰̥̤̮̖̜̬̭͉̙̜͎͖̫̻̝͒̉̋͌̂̿͆̄̔̉̄̊̀̕͝█̴̢̡̤͉͇̩̣̖̰̫̩͙̮͙̞̦̖̼̥͚͕͓̝͉̼͎͙̥́̏̒́̑̀̃̀̔̋̽̅̽̊͐̚̚̚͝ͅ█̵̡̡̡̛̠̩̩̣͍̩̖͙̲͔̝̻͉̟̘͆̿̉͐̋̈͂̍̊̔̂̍̎́͐͝█̷̼͎̬̝̩͉̳̦͕̤̘̱̳̩͙̎̌̂́͐́̉̾̅͌͋̌̌͑͆̎͝█̴̧̨̢̢̬͔̝̥̫̭̙̰̬̼̯̯̥̠̜̱̱͚̠̳̈́̆́͐̕█̶̡̨̛͉͈̦̳̱̗̖̝̊͛̂͑́̏̽͋̀͛̇̅͛͛̿͛̽̒͑̂̏͆͆͘͘̚̚█̸̛͚̪͔͎͉̻̭͖͖̬͚̘̗̫͔̩̮̯͓̯̳͓͈̦̖͙̪͙͑̊̄͐̒̈́̿̓̑̿̈́̅̆̀̎̉̑̓͑͘̕̕͘͠͝█̴̲̖͍̙͙̹͂̿̉͂̍̅̒̌̈̈́͘͝͠͠█̴͎̹͇͔͍͔̭̭̞̼̻͂͛͐̀̄̈̀̅́̒͆̒̃͊̂̉̃̂̆̌͗̈̋█̶̬̦̪̥͉̜͆̋̓͑̀̔̃̿̀̓̂͛̏̆̒̏̌̄͑̽̈́͌͘͜͝͠█̵̢̛͔͇̺̳͈̺̠͎̰̗͔̞̹̤̙̤͉̞̔̎̾͆̈́̆̄̊͋́̈̿͌͂̓̇̓́̈̔͜͜͜͠ͅͅ█̶̡͙̜̦̺͖̖͖̯̭͎͖̫̻͙̰͖̲̮̜͊̍█̷̢̛̛̭̬̠̞̙̐̇̀́́͗̐̂̃̏̍̐̌̃̐̔̒͒́̔͘͜͠█̶̧̡̛̛̦̮̫͔͖͆̀̋̾͗̀̓͊̏̈̀̿̓̍̽͋̋̈́̏͂̽͛̕̕͝͝█̸̢̛̛̥̹̝͕͕̳̜̘̳͚͎͔̘͉̙͎͊̒̉̀̈̒̊̎̀̃̑̅ͅ█̴̢̡̡̘̖̗̱͔̟͖̣̖̗̫̩͚̩̭̘͕͙̉͂̅͊͋͐̂̇̀̈́̀̀̕͜͝͝͠ͅ _

_ ̵̨̩̠͕̝͈͖̞͙̹̳͕̮̺̽͌̆̈́́̾͘͘͠ͅ█̸̡̛̯̦̪̭̹̺̳̿͐̃̿̿̾͊́̃̉̒́͒̈͑̑̑̑̂͘̕͝͝█̸̡̢͙̰͍͎̹͈̠̬̫́̍█̵̡̡̡̨̖̦̖͚͔͖̺̮͒̾͐̉̆̾͘ͅ█̴̦͍̤̣̜̦͆̓̿̽͂̔͂́̒̇͑͌͛̓̓̂̃́̕͘͠█̵͉̲̜̮͓̈́͗̈́̆͂̅̎̂͆̽̂̿̈̈́̀̓̃̏̓̚█̶̺̖̭̪̌̓͌̇̔̈́͠͝█̷̭̩̭̮͎̣̦͉͔͇͖͓̠̘͔̆̓̋̔̈͆͂̊̀̏͊͌̈́̎̉͗́̕̚̚͜͝ͅ█̵̨̟͙͈̲̱̩̪̹̲̮̣̪̰͙͈̠̣̓̓̈̋̿█̸̢̠̦͚͖̣̥̓̈́̊̅̇̿█̵̡̧̮̬̝͉̯̺̙̝̻̖̗̪̱͕̙̪̳͙̝̣̦̲̖͇̟͋͌͒̀͒̅̄̈̓͗̀̋̒̎̔͂̏͘͜͠ͅ█̷̨̡̢̢̡̛̪̠̜̹͎̫̯͙͈̜͚̮̻̩̠̳͕̘̲̯͍̼̗͋̌̋͐̔̾̒̉̑̈̂̀͋̎̚͝ͅ█̴̨͓͕̤͖̥̦̼͚̼͖͚̏̒̎̔́͆̀̂́͛͐̅̑̒͋͑̿̋͒͆͗͜͠͠͠͠█̵̧̡̦̱͚͖̝͖͍͎̙̪͆̈͒̈́̓̾̏͑̋̾͋̈́͐͐͑̾͌̄͆͐̇͘̚█̵̨̡͖̲͇̲͉̹̲̲͓̖͇͕͈̪̲̹͇̭̤̻̰͎̫̤̩͗̄͜█̵̼͆́̏̂͌̒̿̀̔̔̂͐͝͝█̶̢̢̡̛̛̦̣̤̱̰̖̤͕̤͓͓̹̌̐̈̂̏̃̂̀̿͆͊̽̽̈͊͐́́͊͑͘͘͘͝█̶̢̡̺̘͚̠͍̗̦̗̖̮̺̘̜̝̖͈͖̣̅̓̏̽̏̾̄͊͜█̴̡̗̘͙̣͉̫̝̹̖̓̔͐̉̔́̄̍͂͘͘͠█̵̧̡̦̖͙̤͙̞̦̞̗̟̰̝̮͇̦͎͙̱̰̻̪̈́̇͛̈́͑̆̅͊̈͝͝͝█̶̧̛̝̳̬̥̻͈̗̀̐̅͐̅̍́̏͑̈́̎͐̓̂̑̇█̷̛̪͉͖͉̮̖̙̣̮̦̣̩́̎̔̈̏̄̂̾̅̓̈́̐͆̏͝█̵̧̙̗͎̻̭̤̬̬̗̻̖͖͒͜█̶̛͍̐̉̌̉̌̽͋́̄̉̆̂͘͝͝█̵͓̦̓̄̃͋̽̋̉̚̕͝͝█̴̧̡̛͉͍̝̼̞̼͙̙̱͚̳̼̻̘̮̳̝̲͚̣͈͔͓̜̫̀̎̐̀͌̑̃̈́͂͊͊̂̿̀̿̽͒͑̉̕͝͝█̷̡̬̻̙̼̖̼̞̭̈́͂̆̑̓͊͒̓̐͑̽͗͜͜█̶̨̲͚̺̥̮͙̤̯̬̩͐́̈́̀̔̍̆̚͜͜ͅ█̷̤̲̝͓͈̻͇̹̩̤͎̩̟͌̏̅̈̓͛́̄͌̒͂͒̿̒̓̽̉͠█̷̛̹̘͈̠͇̈́̎̊̊̄̀̀̈͑̏͗̎̊̾͆͂̐̒͒̚̚͝͠ͅ█̸̧̘͔̓̋̌̈́ _

_ _

_ ̴̱͉̽̂̈̓̍̉̌̓̚̕█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̵ _

 

_ They approached the door to the room Poison was in and Poison braced himself to see Ghoul strapped into a chair and force fed pills.  _

 

_ Much to his surprise, Exterminator Way took a sharp right and pushed away the white wall to reveal a secret room behind it. Poison eyed the hospital bed with untied restraints on it, the stirrups that one would find at a gynecologist, and trays full of medical equipment. _

 

_ Poison’s heart twisted. Something told him that Mr. Iero wasn’t coming in for a pap smear. _

_ ̸̴ _ _ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ _

_ Ẉ̵̛̔̌̀͠ͅh̶̼̭̩̼́̌̈ả̴̯̰͎̌͒̾͌̚t̸̙̣̉̀̿̎̌̈́͝ ̶͎̮͎͕̌̅͊̌͌̈́i̴̡̬̍̓́̉̔́͠f̸̢̙̾̍͋̌ ̷̗̫̄͂̋̊̏̒͘w̵͙̱̤͇̤͊͜e̷̡͘͠ͅ ̷͖̺̻̬͔̔̾̽̇̅̾̍t̸̫́͂̈͜ŕ̵̢͚̩͕͕̥̺̍͑̓ŷ̶̧̳̰̲̟̹̾͗̃̓̏̀?̶͎̗̟̃͐̈́̕ _

_ _

_ ̶̡̺͚͍͙̯̠͊̉̓́Ẅ̵̡́̆̏̄̅h̵̢͙̺̣͉̄͌̑͊͂̅̕͜͜a̸̬̱̦̻̣͖͑̾͜t̴͔̅̅͋͗̽̓̕ ̵̢̛̳͕͖̳̐̉̈́̀̚͜i̴̞̪̗̬͚̼͗̈́̉́͘͜f̷̢̧̟̹̫̘̈̑̂̐͌ ̶̣̦̖̫͂̏͜w̸̨̛̻͉͕͇̲͆͊̉̈́ȩ̵̮̟̈͌͗̓̉̕ ̷̖̖̼͚̝͓͑͑̾̓̎̇ͅŝ̸̢̖̞͚̪͙̮͋͘ȕ̴̖͎̭̼̼ͅr̶̢̯͔̉v̷͙͖̭̔ì̵̺̙̈̓̒v̷̫̦̭̮͔̺̺̀̎͗̓̒͘ë̴͇́̅͆͛̄̓̍?̷̢̡̣̭͇͎̀͜ _

_ ̴̭͔̭̀́̚͘Ẅ̴̛͉̼̎͐͐ō̸͈̦̮̫̮̣̉̓̾͗̈́͜ū̶̧̘̗̱̆̊͘l̸̡̬̤̈͛̍̂͑͑̈́d̶͔͑̓̑̎͗̕̕ ̷̨͍̳̭͆̑͜ĩ̷̘̼͈̭͕͇̺͐̍̈́̈t̴̗͖͇̗̺̮̾̆͒̓͑͠͝ ̷̡̺̟͉͇͙̀̌̆̌̽̔͘ͅç̶̝̖̃͆͘ḩ̶̛̘̭̋̂̋͝ǎ̷͖n̵̢̧̛̠̬̝ǵ̸̛̖̌͒͒͠ẹ̵̡̫͍̅͐̂̚ ̵̭̾̄͝͠͠ą̴̰̹̀̄n̴̢̝̹̱͊̍̂ͅy̵̨̰̩͍͐͝t̴̛̛͕̎͆̋͒̑h̵͓̼̝͔̭̏i̸̘̦͉̗̗̝̫͂̐̑̈n̶̳͎̹̞͈̑̌͐͒͂ģ̴̯͇̲͇̄̉?̷̲͇̫̜̋̅͐̍̓̅͜͜ _

 

_ ̶M̷r̵.̶ ̷I̴e̷r̶o̸ ̶s̷e̴e̸m̷e̵d̸ ̶t̵o̴ ̶r̶e̵c̷o̸g̶n̴i̶z̴e̷ ̷t̸h̸e̵ ̴r̸o̴o̵m̴ ̸b̵e̴c̶a̶u̶s̸e̸ ̸t̴h̴e̵ ̶m̵o̴m̷e̴n̷t̴ ̷E̶x̴t̵e̸r̶m̵i̵n̴a̷t̸o̵r̷ ̶b̴u̷r̷s̷t̴e̴d̶ ̸i̷n̶ ̴h̶e̵ ̷t̵h̶r̶e̷w̷ ̸c̷a̷u̴t̴i̷o̶n̴ ̶t̶o̷ ̸t̷h̴e̶ ̵w̴i̶n̸d̸,̸ ̵“̸P̵l̸e̶a̶s̵e̴,̷ ̶p̸l̸e̶a̴s̸e̴ ̸n̴o̶!̶ ̵L̸e̷t̴ ̴m̵e̷ ̴g̴o̴!̸ ̷P̸l̸e̸a̸s̴e̶!̷ ̸D̴o̶n̸’̶t̸ ̷d̸o̶ ̷t̷h̵i̴s̵ ̶t̶o̴ ̴m̷e̷!̶”̴ ̸H̶e̸ ̸b̶e̵g̵g̵e̵d̸.̵ ̵H̴i̴s̴ ̴w̶o̶r̸d̶s̴ ̵b̵e̶c̸a̸m̴e̴ ̵m̶o̷r̷e̵ ̷a̴n̴d̷ ̴m̸o̴r̷e̶ ̷m̵u̵f̸f̸l̴e̵d̴ ̸a̸s̶ ̶e̴a̴c̸h̷ ̸s̵h̶o̷c̴k̶ ̴m̶a̸d̵e̷ ̸h̸i̸s̵ ̸t̶o̸n̶g̸u̴e̶ ̵n̶u̷m̷b̵e̶r̸.̶ ̷ _

_ ̷ ̸ _

_ ̵E̶x̵t̶e̸r̴m̵i̵n̴a̷t̶o̸r̷ ̷W̵a̸y̷ ̷t̸h̴r̶e̴w̶ ̸M̷r̷.̷ ̴I̷e̸r̸o̴ ̴d̶o̷w̸n̶ ̷o̷n̵t̶o̷ ̶t̴h̵e̴ ̷h̴o̸s̶p̵i̵t̷a̶l̷ ̷b̶e̷d̴ ̵a̷n̶d̸ ̵s̷t̷e̸p̷p̸e̴d̴ ̴b̸a̴c̴k̶.̸ ̴H̸e̸ ̴s̷m̵i̶r̴k̶e̴d̶ ̵a̸s̷ ̴h̴e̶ ̷w̴a̸t̶c̷h̸e̴d̶ ̶S̵c̵a̴r̶e̴c̵r̵o̸w̴s̴ ̶s̴t̵r̴a̸p̵ ̴M̸r̶.̶ ̶I̷e̵r̵o̷ ̸i̶n̷t̴o̸ ̷t̷h̷e̸ ̸b̸e̷d̸ ̴s̴o̶ ̸h̵e̸ ̸c̸o̶u̶l̶d̶n̶’̷t̵ ̶b̸u̴d̴g̵e̷.̵ ̵ _

_ ̶ ̸ _

_ ̵“̶G̵i̴v̵e̷ ̴h̷i̸m̸ ̶t̷h̶e̸ ̶w̴o̷r̴k̶s̶,̶ ̵h̸e̶’̵s̵ ̸b̵e̸e̵n̵ ̶e̸s̴p̷e̸c̴i̴a̴l̷l̵y̸ ̴d̵e̴v̷i̴a̴n̴t̵ ̸l̴a̴t̸e̶l̴y̷ ̶w̷i̴t̸h̸ ̷t̷h̵e̶ ̷i̸s̴s̷u̴e̶ ̷o̷f̴ ̸M̷r̵.̶ ̶W̷a̶y̸’̴s̵ ̴t̸r̸e̸a̵t̸m̵e̷n̷t̷ ̴i̴n̶ ̷t̷h̷e̷ ̸f̶a̸c̷i̵l̷i̷t̷i̶e̶s̷ ̶s̷o̵ ̶m̵a̷k̴e̷ ̸s̵u̶r̴e̸ ̴w̸h̸e̴n̴ ̴h̷e̷ ̵c̷o̶m̴e̷s̴ ̵o̵u̵t̷,̸ ̶h̷e̷ ̷w̸o̷n̶’̶t̵ ̴m̶a̷k̶e̸ ̵t̵h̵e̸ ̷s̸a̸m̵e̸ ̸m̶i̸s̷t̷a̸k̴e̷s̵ ̷w̵i̵t̶h̶ ̵m̷e̵ ̷a̸g̸a̸i̷n̶.̵”̴ ̷E̶x̸t̷e̵r̷m̵i̶n̶a̴t̸o̶r̷ ̸w̸a̵y̷ ̷o̷r̷d̸e̸r̵e̷d̴ ̵t̴h̶e̷n̵ ̷b̶e̶g̴a̷n̵ ̴t̷o̷ ̵s̸t̶e̸p̴ ̶o̷u̶t̸ ̴o̴f̶ ̶t̴h̵e̴ ̷r̸o̴o̴m̷.̷ _

_ ̷ ̴ _

_ ̴H̵e̸ ̷s̶t̴o̵p̴p̷e̷d̸ ̸a̵ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̵s̵e̸c̵r̵e̶t̴ ̵d̷o̷o̶r̴,̴ ̵“̷O̸h̵,̴ ̶b̸u̷t̷ ̸k̵e̶e̶p̵ ̵s̶o̴m̴e̵ ̷o̴f̵ ̸h̵i̶s̴ ̷h̷a̵i̴r̴,̵”̷ ̸h̵e̴ ̵r̸e̵q̸u̸e̶s̷t̸e̵d̵,̷ ̸“̶I̷ ̷e̵n̶j̶o̴y̴ ̶g̶e̵t̶t̵i̷n̵g̴ ̴t̸o̸ ̸d̷r̸a̸g̴ ̵h̸i̷m̸ ̶b̶y̸ ̶i̴t̶,̸”̸ ̷h̸e̵ ̷s̵m̸i̸r̸k̶e̶d̸.̸ _

_ ̶̴ _ _ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ _

_ _

_ ̴̨̨̛̻̲̟̪̞͉̹̼̗͙̖̈̔̆̉͆̑̒́͋̔̐̕͠͝W̷̛͚̻̎̀̾̔ḫ̷̱̹̣̄a̸̪͓̙͐͆̓͂͛̈́t̷̮́̆͂̃̊͝͠ͅ ̶̪͋̔i̴̢̩̟͎̊̐́̑̚f̶̛̫͌̽̈́͝ ̴͖̮̓̌͊̀w̷̘͕͓̑͒̆͝͝e̷͕̫̣͗ ̴͔͙̝͇̮̙̤͊̽̒̊t̷̳̭́́̂̾̾̂͋ͅr̸͖̀ỵ̸̨̛̐̄̅̈?̴͖̣̱̻̲̳͛ _

_ _

_ ̶͈͎̦͔̬̈́̈́̈̍W̵̨̺̿̌͒̓h̸̫͎͋́̕a̴͈̮̦̒̓̏̋͆ͅṱ̴̖̥͂͗͗͗́̕ ̴̡̤̥̘̣̲̈́ͅḭ̴͍̻̟̯͍̓̎̐̇̃̕͜f̷̗̿̌̈́͠ ̵̡̭͖̺͆̔̋͗͊͗w̵̡̦̤̿̋́̋̕̚e̷̢͊͂̀ ̸̢̖̗͚̮̝̫̊̎̇̈̊s̷̼̫̎̆ú̵̞̇̓̉̂͆͝r̶͍͍̤͎̘̈́̀̈̓͘ͅv̶̻̲̟̻̹̞̞͗̎̈́̓̏͒į̸̨̛͈͒̄͆͝͝v̷̨͈̭̫͔̤̭͒ĕ̴̫͖̘̏͒͝͝?̵̡̧̨̹̥͗̽̓̆̆̇͝ _

_ ̶̧̛͕̻̻͗̔̃̕͝W̷̢̛̻̪̳͉̗͉̏̍̾͆͑͒o̶̧̜̠͇̟̖̥̐͛̅̏͌ų̶͙͚̠͊l̸̩̖̖̣̭͘ḍ̷̈͗͒̄͜ ̸̼̮̋̃̎͊̄́̚ị̸̟̜͖̞͚̎͆͒̉t̸͎͋̐̒̇͋ ̵͍͋ĉ̸̺̖͉̹͕͆h̵̡̯̬͚͔̜̀͋a̵̻̎͗̽̚n̶̨̫͔̟̑͛͊͘g̷͚͙̞̭̣͌͜e̷͖͙͈̜̞͎̜͠ ̵͕̟̈́̏̍̈́̈́͠a̴̙̗̮̽̀̀͌͂͜n̶̛̮̘̘̹̞̾̍̃͗̏̉ẙ̶̝̄̽͂̉͝t̵̛͇̀̔̎͂͠h̷̬̥̻̽̑̒í̴̢̩͖̫̑̓̐̈͛͝ͅń̸̨̫̱̤̙͚͒̍̕͜ģ̶̧̲̙̗͕͛?̸̛̖̞̩̲̮̈̿̀̈́ _

_ ̶͕̯̘̦̑̆͜ͅ _

 

 

 

_ The door slammed shut and Poison’s stomach twisted. Now the real struggle is about to begin.  _

_ The footage changed from a third person point of view to right over the medical bed, so Poison could see in full detail how Mr. Iero would suffer. _

_ ̴ _ _ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ _

_ _

_ M̸̛͖̎̈́̎̐̃́ộ̵̢̼̲͉͒̉̔̈͗͜͝s̸͈͎̻̚͜t̴̨̯̺̀͗̈̾ ̴̹̗̂̐̈̉̎͒͜ͅd̶̜̫̆̈́̈́͂ͅͅa̸̖̥͆́̑͗ý̷̧̦̮̖͎s̴̠͙͔̭̳̺͚̆͊̀̊̓͐͛ ̵̺͊̃̈́͆͛͠w̶̛̺͍̩̄̐͛e̷͕̮̤̲͐͝͝ ̶̡̽̽͐̀͜w̷̡̺̪̽͝͠a̴̛̲̫̯̎t̸͖̹̔͐͐̔ç̴̞̰̘͊̐h̷͔̥́̽̈́̉͝ ̵͍̦͎͋̈́͝ǫ̸̦̪̠͆͘ǘ̴̧͈̝̙͓͓̓̕͝͝͝ŕ̵̨̛͙͙͚̗̭͌̇́͘̚ ̵̪̖̳̞̘̔͊͘b̵͉̺̞͍̟̈͐̏e̵͎̱̠̘̞̖̝͋͂͝s̷͚͕̭̪̳̪̐ṭ̷̊̄̈̂̎͘ ̷̖̫̣̩͆͂̿̉̕͠f̵̨̰͙̌r̴̼͈̅͑́͊̇̃̅i̶̜͆̑̎͗̽̉͘e̸̜̙̰͗̾̀̏n̸̨̟̥͇̻̈́̔͝ͅd̷̡̰̮͎̰̺̒̅͘s̵̟̼̯͖̼̙̑̐͑̃͜͝ ̵̞͍͓̞̭̿͊͑d̸͙̙̜͙͍̓ͅḯ̵̘̱̘̀͜ͅe̴͔̞̱̗̿̆͐͐̅̓͆ _

_ ̷͉͛̍̇̕Į̶̖̣̳̼̖̤͐ ̴̜̖̬̱̈́͋̂̑͜ͅt̸̡̠̻̜̜̞̪̓ŗ̶̼̉͆͜ỷ̴̖̪͙̹̟̹͑͌͛ ̷̞̱̮̇j̷͕̫̊u̸̡̞̤͎͈̜̇s̸̟̲͚̹̞̓͛͗́͝ṱ̴̲͕̻̈́̽ ̸̰̞̜͐͝t̷̖̪̗̜̪͔͒̍͠͝o̸̡͇̊͆ ̷̨̗͖͑̽̍̒̌̾͝u̵̪̾̈́̌̂̄̋̒n̴̨͔̳͇̗͚̖̍͑̉̂d̷͓̺͔̝͔̯̍̓̈̓͊̒̈e̷̥̼͚̪͘ͅř̸̬̋s̷͚̖̦̹̥͘ẗ̶̼̥́a̸̧͈̹̹͚͖̲̽̉̆͑͌͝n̸̠͇͆̈̕͝d̸͉͓̈̒̍͋ ̶̢̮̐͋̅̊̍w̵̧̫͕͉̲̙̆̋h̵̗̱͍̱̓͝͝y̷̢͐ ̴̨̥̼̦͈̻͔͠͝b̷̦̽̈̌͝ũ̸̠̜̦̮͌͝t̸̤͇̟̔̑̆́͒͆͠.̶̩̥̗̝̖͗͐͊͊͊ͅ.̵͉̹̊̚.̴̨̡̱̺͕̆̀̅̎̈́̋͛ _

 

_ ̴̱͉̽̂̈̓̍̉̌̓̚̕█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

 

 

_ T̴h̶e̸ ̴S̶c̵a̴r̸e̷c̶r̷o̷w̵ ̸t̸h̴a̴t̴ ̴s̸e̵e̷m̵e̷d̷ ̵t̴o̸ ̶b̴e̵ ̴i̵n̴ ̸c̷h̷a̶r̴g̷e̴ ̵g̷r̵a̶b̵b̵e̶d̸ ̴M̶r̷.̶ ̶I̶e̵r̸o̴’̸s̷ ̴c̸h̶i̸n̶ ̵a̷n̷d̸ ̶j̶e̷r̸k̸e̶d̸ ̴h̸i̸s̶ ̶f̴a̸c̸e̷ ̵t̵o̶ ̷t̶h̴e̴ ̵l̴e̶f̷t̸,̷ ̵r̸e̵v̴e̴a̷l̷i̸n̷g̴ ̸a̸ ̸l̵i̷n̸e̵ ̷o̴f̵ ̴s̶t̷i̶t̴c̴h̶e̵s̵ ̷t̴h̵a̵t̴ ̴r̶a̸n̵ ̴a̵c̷r̴o̸s̴s̵ ̵h̵i̴s̷ ̸m̸o̶u̵t̴h̵.̶ ̴“̵H̸o̴w̶ ̶a̴b̴o̴u̴t̸ ̴w̴e̸ ̴s̸t̸a̷r̴t̷ ̷w̶i̶t̶h̷ ̸t̶h̶e̶s̵e̷ ̶l̸i̵t̶t̵l̴e̶ ̶s̷t̵i̴t̴c̷h̷e̵s̵ ̵h̸e̶r̷e̷,̵”̷ ̶t̶h̶e̵ ̶r̸o̷b̷o̷t̶i̴c̸ ̸v̴o̷i̷c̸e̸ ̶s̸e̴e̴m̴e̴d̶ ̶t̷o̸ ̴m̶o̶n̴o̷t̶o̸n̴e̵ ̵b̶u̶t̷ ̸w̸i̶t̶h̵ ̸a̸ ̵c̵r̵u̵e̸l̸ ̶p̴u̴r̶r̴.̸ _

_ ̷ ̶ _

_ ̶M̴r̸.̴ ̶I̵e̵r̸o̴ ̴t̷h̸r̷a̵s̶h̸e̷d̷ ̶a̷n̸d̴ ̵w̵a̷i̸l̷e̸d̶ ̶a̷s̴ ̶t̴h̷e̸ ̸‘̸C̷r̴o̶w̴ ̸w̸a̶s̷ ̸h̶a̴n̷d̷e̶d̷ ̵a̶ ̶s̷i̸l̶v̶e̸r̶ ̸p̴a̷i̴r̵ ̵o̸f̴ ̸m̷e̵t̷a̸l̵ ̶t̶w̵e̷e̵z̶e̷r̶s̵.̴ ̸B̸u̴t̴ ̷a̴ ̴k̷i̵n̴d̸ ̵t̴h̵a̸t̴ ̵w̴e̴r̷e̷ ̸s̶h̸a̶r̴p̵e̵r̵ ̷t̵h̸a̸n̷ ̸y̸o̵u̶ ̵w̵o̴u̵l̵d̴ ̴u̶s̵e̵ ̷t̷o̴ ̵g̶e̵t̸ ̶o̶u̷t̷ ̸a̷ ̷s̵p̵l̸i̶n̶t̴e̷r̸.̴ _

_ ̷ ̶ _

_ ̷M̸r̴.̸ ̵I̶e̸r̸o̷ ̶j̶e̸r̸k̸e̶d̶ ̵a̴w̸a̵y̴ ̵f̶r̷o̴m̵ ̸t̶h̴e̵ ̸‘̵C̷r̷o̴w̷.̵ _

_ ̶ ̶ _

_ ̵“̷H̸m̸,̸ ̴s̵e̴e̴m̷ ̶t̶o̸ ̸h̵a̴v̴e̸ ̴a̷ ̴b̷i̴t̷ ̸o̶f̷ ̷s̵p̴u̵n̸k̴?̶ ̸G̴e̸t̷ ̴t̵h̸e̷ ̶h̶e̴a̵d̷ ̴r̶e̴s̷t̴r̵a̸i̵n̶t̴s̸,̵”̵ ̸t̵h̴e̵ ̵‘̷C̷r̵o̶w̶ ̷s̷m̴i̸r̶k̵e̸d̴.̴ ̸ _

_ ̶ ̶ _

_ ̵M̴r̵.̶ ̸I̷e̷r̶o̶ ̸w̴h̸i̵p̶p̶e̴d̶ ̵h̴i̴s̷ ̵h̷e̶a̷d̷ ̸o̸v̵e̵r̴ ̷t̶o̸ ̴t̴h̵e̵ ̶‘̸C̷r̸o̵w̵,̴ ̶“̶F̶u̵c̴k̸ ̴y̷o̴u̷,̷”̴ ̷h̴e̴ ̴s̴p̷u̵t̶t̶e̵r̷e̶d̴,̸ ̷h̸i̷s̴ ̸t̴o̸n̵g̸u̸e̴ ̷n̶o̴t̵h̵i̸n̷g̴ ̶b̶u̷t̶ ̸a̸ ̴p̴i̷e̴c̴e̸ ̸o̷f̷ ̶f̵l̷e̶s̸h̸ ̷i̴n̷ ̸h̴i̸s̸ ̵m̵o̴u̶t̶h̴.̷ ̷A̶ ̵p̵a̴i̵r̶ ̴o̶f̶ ̸g̸l̴o̷v̷e̴d̶ ̵h̷a̸n̶d̴s̸ ̵g̵r̵a̴b̷b̶e̷d̸ ̴t̵h̸e̶ ̷s̶i̵d̵e̵s̵ ̶o̴f̶ ̴M̵r̷.̶ ̴I̵e̸r̴o̶’̴s̶ ̸f̸a̴c̶e̶ ̵a̷n̴d̷ ̶j̸e̴r̷k̸e̴d̴ ̸h̸i̵m̷ ̸s̶o̸ ̶h̸e̸ ̸w̵a̴s̶ ̶f̶a̸c̶i̶n̷g̸ ̴t̵h̴e̸ ̷c̴a̷m̶e̴r̴a̵.̶ ̶ _

_ ̶ ̵ _

_ ̷T̸h̷e̷ ̸l̵o̶o̷k̶ ̵M̷r̴.̴ ̸I̶e̷r̶o̵ ̵h̶a̴d̴ ̴i̶n̸ ̴t̷h̴a̴t̷ ̶o̷n̸e̸ ̸m̴o̸m̶e̵n̶t̴,̴ ̸s̶o̶ ̴h̷o̴p̸e̸l̶e̶s̶s̴,̴ ̵s̶o̴ ̴s̶c̷a̸r̵e̵d̷,̷ ̵s̴o̸ ̸a̵n̸g̵r̶y̶.̸ ̷I̵t̷ ̴m̸a̷d̶e̷ ̵P̸o̷i̵s̷o̴n̸’̵s̸ ̶h̸e̵a̴r̶t̸ ̸s̵n̶a̸p̷ ̵i̷n̴ ̶t̶w̷o̸.̷ ̶“̸W̷h̶e̸r̴e̴ ̸i̴s̶ ̵h̴e̴?̷”̸ ̸P̵o̶i̸s̶o̵n̶ ̷c̶r̷i̷e̶d̸.̸ _

_ ̵ ̶ _

_ ̵A̷ ̸t̷h̶i̶c̶k̴ ̶m̴e̴t̵a̷l̶ ̴p̷l̵a̵t̵e̸ ̸w̶a̴s̸ ̷w̵r̵a̸p̶p̶e̴d̵ ̸o̸v̶e̶r̸ ̷M̷r̶.̸ ̸I̵e̶r̷o̸’̴s̶ ̸f̷o̶r̷e̷h̷e̷a̴d̸ ̵a̵n̴d̵ ̷h̷i̶s̴ ̵c̵h̸i̷n̷ ̴s̸o̶ ̶h̸e̶ ̶h̷a̷d̷ ̷n̵o̶ ̴w̷a̷y̸ ̷t̸o̷ ̵f̶i̷g̴h̶t̴ ̶a̸g̵a̵i̶n̷s̵t̸ ̷b̶e̷i̴n̷g̷ ̷p̴o̸k̷e̶d̷ ̸a̶n̶d̷ ̷p̶r̷o̴d̶d̵e̶d̴ ̷a̸t̴.̵ ̷ _

_ ̵ ̵ _

_ _

_ ̶T̶h̸e̸ ̶‘̷C̴r̸o̴w̷ ̷s̴t̸a̵r̵t̷e̷d̴ ̸p̶u̸l̴l̴i̶n̸g̷ ̶a̶t̷ ̸M̸r̷.̸ ̸I̸e̴r̶o̷’̸s̷ ̶f̶l̶e̶s̵h̶ ̵w̸i̸t̸h̷ ̶t̶h̴e̵ ̴t̸w̷e̵e̸z̶e̴r̵s̷.̷ ̶B̵u̸t̸ ̵t̷h̷e̷ ̵n̶o̵t̸o̶r̵i̸o̷u̸s̶ ̵‘̵j̴o̵y̷s̷ ̷c̶o̶m̶e̴r̶a̸d̵e̸’̵s̷ ̶s̷t̴i̵t̴c̴h̸w̸o̶r̵k̵ ̷w̷a̷s̸ ̸s̵t̸u̴b̵b̸o̵r̷n̸.̶ ̵M̷r̷.̸ ̶I̷e̷r̷o̸ ̵l̴e̷t̶ ̸o̶u̴t̵ ̵a̴ ̵d̷r̴y̶ ̵l̶a̵u̸g̵h̷,̴e̶v̴e̷n̶ ̴t̴h̶o̸u̶g̷h̶ ̴i̷t̶ ̴h̸u̸r̴t̶ ̵t̶h̶e̶ ̸p̵i̶t̶ ̷o̵f̴ ̴h̴i̶s̶ ̷s̸t̶o̸m̸a̵c̸h̵.̶ _

_ _

_ ̵“̷T̴h̸a̷t̴'̴s̵ ̷c̴o̸u̵r̸t̴e̶s̵y̷ ̸t̸h̶e̴ ̵w̵o̸r̵k̴ ̵o̴f̵ ̴m̵i̴s̴t̶e̴r̵ ̸J̷e̷t̷ ̴S̵t̷a̴r̸,̷ ̸a̶k̸a̵ ̷t̴h̶e̴ ̶p̶e̶r̶s̷o̶n̵ ̷w̸h̴o̸ ̴w̷o̷u̷l̴d̸ ̷b̷e̶ ̸i̷n̵ ̵y̷o̷u̷r̶ ̷p̸o̷s̵i̶t̵i̶o̶n̷ ̸i̴f̸ ̴h̶e̸ ̷h̵a̸d̸n̶’̴t̵ ̶g̵o̵t̶ ̷t̷h̵e̷ ̷s̴e̵n̵s̴e̸ ̵k̵n̸o̴c̷k̸e̸d̵ ̵i̶n̷ ̸h̶i̵m̸ ̵b̷y̶ ̴y̵o̶u̴r̷ ̶p̸r̵e̶c̵i̴o̴u̶s̶ ̷M̸i̸k̵e̸y̸ ̸W̴a̸y̴.̷ ̶W̴h̸o̷ ̵w̸a̶s̴ ̵i̷n̴ ̷f̵a̵c̷t̴,̸ ̷a̵ ̶b̶i̴g̸g̶e̶r̶ ̴s̴l̶u̵t̴ ̸t̸h̸a̵n̷ ̵h̴-̶”̵ ̶M̷r̸.̸ ̷I̸e̴r̵o̴’̵s̵ ̴p̴a̵i̸n̴f̶u̷l̷ ̸r̷a̶m̵b̵l̴i̴n̷g̵ ̵w̴a̸s̶ ̷c̸u̵t̷ ̷o̸f̸f̸ ̵b̷y̶ ̴a̵ ̶s̶i̷d̶e̸ ̴‘̸C̴r̵o̸w̴ ̷s̷h̴o̶v̴i̴n̸g̸ ̶a̸ ̴t̴h̸i̶n̷ ̶p̶l̴a̵s̵t̸i̶c̸ ̵t̸u̷b̴e̶ ̸d̶o̴w̶n̸ ̸h̵i̵s̴ ̷t̸h̴r̶o̷a̸t̸.̵ _

_ ̵ _ _ ̴ _ _ ̷a̷M̴̰͖͍̯͚͖͚̓̿̋̃̚y̵̺̏̐̒͋̔́̀̈́͂͘ ̶̻͎͕̺͚̯̘̗͚̺̙͌́́̂̈m̷͖̮̱̺̣̏́ǎ̷̢̮͕͈̙̠̩̱̭͖̦͉̓͂̄̌͒̈́̚̚͝ç̸̤̖̼̟̜͌̂̈̈̃̔̕͘h̸̦̀͑̅̑̿̅́̎̓͗͝i̴̢͇͙͔̰͗̈̀͑͘ṋ̸̡̛̝̦͚̹̪̗̟̟̃̈́̿̇̽̒̓ͅê̸͎̠̻̱͚̩͓̗̐̎̅͝ ̷̖̳̮̼̗̤͈̼̱͗̈́̌̄̒́̊̒͒͜͝g̴̢̒̔̃̿̋̽́͊̃̾ŭ̷̡͕̬n̶͇̾̓̏̿̿̊͠ ̵̢̥̭̹̺̦̹̖̣̹͔̑́̀́̃͌̿̀̕͘͜ȉ̷̡̟̝̥̭͕͕̙͓̑̀̌̈́n̸̎͜t̵͈̥̲͎̱̮̬̥͕͔̞̃ẻ̷̦͙̥́̎̍͜r̸̼͖͚̤̱̳͖͑͗̌̿̍̏̌̽̔́̽r̸̢̬̥̤̹̞͓̽̀͆̅̀͠u̴̥̪͇̜͖͍̔̓̀̿̈́̿͠p̸͉̼̰̖̺͚̟̀͌͝ẗ̵͍͖͎̼͉̯́̂͆̔͆̿̅̓̒̏̕͜ͅs̴͚̤͙̺̮͈̗̘͌́̆͑̕͜ ̸̟͉̥̥͊̈́̀̿̉̾͊͘ạ̷̧̡̲̟̣̬̲̲̅͋̇̋͋̐͝ǹ̶̜̗̄̓͆͒̅̃͘͝͝y̸̜̱̞̾̋̇̽ ̷̩̝̖̯̖̤̮̫͉͇̻͑͊̒̈́͑̈́̑̏̚̕͘ś̸̠̯̙̱̯̣͔̽͆̽̓́̈́͛̃͛͘͝ǔ̵̢̖̭͕̍͌̋́̆́̽̒̚̚ḉ̶͍̜̖̟͇̞̜͇̬̃̈́̑͛̑̓̆̏̌̕h̸͇̙͕͈̬́ ̵̱̭̫̻͗q̸̪̤̞̞̰̣̣̃ǘ̸͔̹͈̙͚͛̈ȩ̸͓̩̺̤͓͖̦̲̥͒̀s̶̡̖̯̺̞̼̤͙̫̗̎t̴̢̼̼̠̫͕̫̱̂̄͋̆͊͛͝͝i̴̳̥̗̿͆̉̏͜͝o̶̧̙̼̙̼̒̆̂͐̒̒̉͘͘n̵̹͈̤̟̘͖͈̈́́͗͆͐́͛͋̓̾̕͠ï̸̝̦̣̳̲̭͓̰̖̝̥̦̀̈́͌͌n̸̜̙͕̤̘͐̇͂̐̔g̸̨̗̰̘͙̬̙̎̾̏̀͑̃́̾̊ _

_ _

 

 

 

_ Mr. Iero gagged and choked as the tube was adjusted. _

_ “NO!” Poison shrieked as he watched the sight, “I swear to Destroya if you so much as made him gag I will KILL YOU ALL!” Poison raved _

 

_ “Funny of you to say, Mr. Way, because you’re the one with the gun to your head,” Korse hissed in Poison’s ear. Poison felt the barrel of a gun against his neck and he tensed. _ _ ̴ _ _ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ _

_ _

_ ̵͈̽̌͐̓͋̃̍̉̃̋͠͝W̶̭͈͎̬͎̮͕̋͌́̀͜͜h̸̨̛̘̠̤̗͓̺̙̝͒ÿ̵̛͔̩͙̥̥͇̜̺́͂̎̂ ̶̨̈́̇̆̾̓̊̀̓͠ï̷̲̰͑̉̈́͑̆̈̆̚͝š̴̢̡̫͉͚̮̣͙͕̌̈͌͗͋̋̏̂͘ ̴̨̑͑͝l̷͙̣̬̣̣͌̓̓̀̀͋̓̾́̾̑ͅo̷̡̹̯̭̩͚̜̩̻͓͒̈́̆͝v̸̡̻̮͖͈͈͇̜͍͈͇̭̀̂͂́̎͛̓͑̃͘̕e̴̡̬͖̰̥̺̭͇͉͌͒͐͊̎̀͑̍̿̈́͝ ̷̛͖̫̰̭̻̰͕̠̒̿̍̔́͜͝͝ș̵̨͉̖̙͖̞͌͊̆ȏ̵̘͚͆̈́͆͛̆̏̽͘̕ ̶̧̍̌̒̄͘̕d̸̡̛̛̤̘͎̦͚̼͐̈́̒̔̕ḯ̶͎̬̙̟͚̗̝͎̫̝͋͛͒̔̃̋̐̂͝ͅs̷̛͈̲̲̳̠͍̗̯͛̓̈́̅a̴̛͍͍͎̅̽̌͆̅̎̔͝s̸̛̳̻̼̭̹̙͓̎̈́̐͒͂̀̾̓̾̊͜ť̶̡̤̫̟̠̗͇̪̖̱̚r̵̞͔͕̳̪̔̉͜o̵̼͇̻̫̜̾̅̄̊u̵̖͈̭̩̜̾̓̎͊͛̃͐̾̔̍ͅś̶͍̀̊̆?̴̼̪̦̠̭̲̀̏͛ _

_ ̴̨̯͚̱̩̗̪̖̭̩̙̰̓̎͂Ŵ̵̧̛͔̳̙̫̥̬̼̙͇̩̪͒̾͌͊̌͒h̸̢̨͚͉̤̯̖͋͑́͆́͐ͅả̴̯̜̯̃̂̃̇̾̀̚͝ţ̷̲̖̤̝̇̔͂̒͘ ̶̛͖̼͙̠͍̻̣̘̆̽̏̏̌͆́̆͋͘͠ͅi̴̡̹͙̩̲͆̉̑͝f̵̨͖͇̘̲͈͚̿̐͛͒̊̄͊͌͑͆͋͜ ̷͇̞̙͙̞͙͌͊̾̉̚͝ẃ̴̧̢̢̭͈͈͖̝̪̰͔e̵͔̰̪͋͆ ̸̭͇̬̱̻̲̝͎̫͔͎̍̀̆̾͒̕ś̴̡͓̱̟̱̙̯̝͔͖͔̯͗͗̓͊͝ǘ̷̡̲͉̝̄̐͒̌̌̕͠r̴̢̨̡̛̬̘͖̭͕̰̍̑́̄̔͝ͅͅv̵̡̢̛̜͓̤͈̗͕͓̘͍́̍̔̀̌̒̚͠ị̴̱͕̙̥̬̟̣͈̻͒́͊̃̉̔̽͌̚̚͠v̸̧̱̭̮̤͓̽̄͜e̴̛̼̥̯̯͍͍̝̩͙̞̞͖̓̽̈́̃̽͘?̸͕̞̬̰͇̜̄̌ _

_ _

 

 

_ T̸h̸e̴ ̵s̶o̶u̵n̸d̸ ̵o̷f̸ ̶s̷o̶m̷e̵t̵h̶i̴n̸g̶ ̵b̸l̸o̴w̴i̷n̴g̴ ̴a̸i̵r̴ ̶f̷i̷l̴l̴e̸d̴ ̸t̵h̷e̴ ̵r̶o̶o̵m̵ ̴a̶s̷ ̵M̵r̶.̷ ̵I̸e̴r̸o̵ ̶c̸h̶o̶k̷e̴d̸ ̷a̴n̵d̸ ̴g̷a̴g̵.̷ ̵ _

_ ̶ ̸ _

_ ̶“̵I̵t̴’̸s̷ ̷n̴o̴t̴ ̸s̶h̴a̵r̶p̸ ̶e̸n̶o̵u̵g̴h̷!̷”̴ ̶T̸h̸e̵ ̵h̶e̷a̷d̴ ̷‘̶C̶r̵o̸w̴ ̸s̶n̵a̷p̶p̶e̸d̷ ̴t̷h̶e̸n̷ ̷g̷r̷a̴b̴b̸e̴d̴ ̶a̸n̴o̷t̵h̶e̵r̷ ̵t̵o̵o̵l̵ ̶f̵r̵o̸m̵ ̸a̴ ̵t̴a̵b̵l̸e̴.̶ ̵ _

_ ̷A̷ ̶k̸n̴i̸f̸e̸.̸ _

_ ̶ ̸ _

_ ̴P̶i̴l̶l̴s̶ ̶s̵t̴a̴r̷t̴e̶d̶ ̴t̴o̶ ̴s̷h̴o̸o̷t̴ ̷t̵h̵r̴o̵u̷g̷h̶ ̶t̵h̸e̶ ̷t̴u̸b̷e̴ ̴a̶n̶d̴ ̴i̴n̶t̸o̶ ̵M̷r̴.̴ ̸I̸e̵r̴o̴’̸s̴ ̴t̶h̸r̶o̵a̵t̷ ̵a̵t̷ ̵a̷ ̴p̵a̵c̶e̶ ̴t̵o̵o̴ ̶f̷a̸s̷t̶ ̷f̵o̸r̸ ̶h̷i̴m̶ ̵t̵o̵ ̴f̶i̵g̸h̶t̵.̷ ̶A̸l̶l̷ ̴h̸e̵ ̶c̵o̵u̵l̸d̵ ̵d̴o̴ ̸w̷a̴s̴ ̸t̵h̶r̷a̷s̸h̴ ̴a̸n̴d̷ ̶g̷a̸g̸.̷ ̸ _

_ ̶ ̶ _

_ ̶T̶h̶e̸ ̴‘̷C̶r̴o̴w̴ ̶s̴t̶a̵r̷t̴e̷d̷ ̸s̵l̵i̸d̶i̸n̸g̵ ̵t̸h̸e̴ ̷k̴n̷i̵f̴e̷ ̷u̷n̷d̴e̷r̸ ̷t̶h̸e̶ ̴f̴i̴r̷s̵t̵ ̶s̷t̴i̷t̴c̸h̵,̷ ̸a̸ ̷w̶h̸i̷m̶p̸e̴r̸ ̵r̶o̵s̸e̴ ̷f̵r̴o̴m̸ ̶M̵r̶.̷ ̶I̴e̵r̵o̵’̸s̶ ̷t̷h̶r̷o̶a̴t̴.̴ ̶H̵i̸s̵ ̶e̸y̵e̵s̵ ̷w̷e̸r̶e̵ ̵t̷h̶e̷ ̸s̷i̶z̷e̶ ̴o̸f̷ ̷s̴a̶u̵c̶e̵r̷s̶ ̸a̵s̵ ̴t̷h̶e̴y̴ ̵d̴a̵r̷t̵e̷d̴ ̵a̶r̷o̶u̴n̴d̷ ̵t̴h̵e̷ ̷r̷o̴o̸m̷.̸ ̶ _

_ ̴ _ _ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ _

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_ █̸̧̡̨̠̱̣͔̘̝̜̦͓̬̻̟̮̭̰̙̞̪̳̮͍̀̌̒̓̋̓́͌͆̿͗́̃̌͗̌͋̇̎̿̔̆̊͘̚͜͠͠͝█̴̧̡̛͕͕̘̗̭̫̟̺͍͓̬̪̠̬̥̯̩̟̭͖̲̯̈́͌̍͋̑̓̀̀͋͛̔̈́̎͋̐͂̀̀̏͘͜͜͝ͅ█̴̨̨̛̺͔̟̫̮̱̖͈̯̙͉͔̰̹̍̍͆̀̌̀̌͝█̵̢̣̫͖̝̰̦̹̮̺͖̝̞̙̖̞̟͙͍͇̜͔͒͛͐̄̋̀̓͌̿̃̀͊̾̌̿̃͘̚͜͝█̵̡̺̲̝̙̗̝͉̯̯͚̚̚█̶͉̂̍̈͒█̷̨̢̛̞̲̳͚͓̝̲̪͙̊͛̿̈́͐̓̄͌̾́̍͗́̅̐̾̃̎͗̐͘͘͘͠█̶̧̨̢̛͓̘͍̻̯̦̲̥̞̠̩̬̦͗͒̌͒̈́̓͋̽͛́̋̌̐̐̃̿͒̑̋͋̉̿͌̉̐͠͝█̷̛̝̦̓̏͗́̀͂͋͌͛͑́̽͐͊̾̈́̈́̽͌̏̾̚͝͝͝█̸̨̧̢̪̟̺̺̺̤̮͉̭̫͕͙̥̯̬̦̏͗͊͋̑͐̊͒̍͒͋͘̚͜͠█̵̡̗͖͍̥̣̐͛̾̾͋̈͌͒͒̄̂̇̈́̚͝█̴̢̨̡̳̪̦̞̞̞̜̱͙̦͙͙̫͓̟͍͍̳̪͈͎̙͕͎̈́̎̅̈́͜͜█̴̡̢̼̰͔̝̻͇̫̘͓̪̤̰̫̆̇̓̉͐̎͝͝͝█̶̧̣̖̿̿̏̊̎̅͊͊̚͝█̸̡̢̧̛͈̻̝̰̙̮͖͓̏̀͑̈́̑̅̽͋̇̓̑͗͛̈̾͆͒͒̎̇̋̓͊͛̒͗̕͜█̶̞̘̣͕̹̞͈͓̲̖͕̙͍̰͓͕̼̀́͗͒̒̄̆̇͋̈͒̉̏̄͗͂͐͗͒̇͑̕̚̕͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅ█̵̢͉͇̰̱͈̯̏̆̔̆͑͐̇͛̈́̈͆̓̍͘̚ͅ█̴̧̨̨̗̠̦͖͉̹͍̫̘̣̦̠̦̞̞̫̜̤̪͚̠̤̈͛̄͜͝ͅ█̸̲̹̏͌͐͊̈́̽̊͛̇̎̄͒̏̐́̈́͗͌̽̀̽█̵̡̡̢̛̱͉͙̝̦̻̱̤̜͙͉̼͉̭̦͚̪̭̘͍͉̪̟͍̒̈͆͐̈͑̄͜͜͠█̶̛͙̤͇̲̾̌́͋̐̆͑̿̔̑̀̋̐̉̋̕͘͝͠█̶̛̛͍̬̥̯̼̼͇͎͇̰̬̬͎̳͕̫͙̙͆͂̍̋̓̓̀͛̑̉͑̈́̚̚͜█̷̢͇̱͎͉̣͓̹͉̮͉̹̫͓͌̃̈́̿͂̂̔̿̓̍̐̊̏̓̇̍͊͐̍̾̕̕͠͠͠͝█̴͔̼̗̦̟̻̟̥̗̝͍̹̺̪͙̦̞̦͚̱̼̪̽̈̾̽́͆̆́́̂͘͝█̵̨̧̰͖̯͍̟̙̰͍̟̹̯͕̙̙̫̬̖̪̮͍͓̯̪̬̩̲̐͌̏͑̄̔͋̃̉͋̀̑͗͑̅̽̈́̍͗̏̐̉͑̈́̌̐͒͜͝͠█̸̡̨̻̳͇̮͖̹̮̮̝͓̩̺̜͉͓̫̩̙̻̝͍̥̆͘͜͝ͅ█̶̡̛͇̺̣͙̭̯̲͇͕̺͓͓͕̘̘͕͔͗̍̓̓̐̇͒͋̈́͐͑̃͋̎̀͆̄̉̀̿̌̚̚̚̕͠ͅ _

 

_ Poison heard footsteps behind the camera and a screeching of something moving, then he heard the sound of static. “Shit,” he breathed. _

 

 

 

_ ̴ _ _ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ█̴̮̻̓̅̀̄̓͂̂͂̾̄̀̈̿͐̓̍̎͛̈́͛̊͆͘̕̕͠͝͠█̴̨͔͔͙͉̟̹̖̠̤̦̤̺̼̙̹̬̰͇̈́̌̆█̷̢̡̛͔̺̱̲̬̜͈͚̝̭̹̰͇͉̻̼̼͚̪̹̲̳͍̾͑̓̾͗̍̓̿̔͑̊͂̃͑̈̽̏̑͆̓̂̄̆̕͝ͅ█̸̧̛͚͚̫̲̰͚͔̼͕̜̬̤̜̺̹̭̜̞͈̼̒̅̉̋̈́̓͛̊̈̅͋̿̍̐͒̈́͐̅́̅̕͝ͅ█̶̭̫͖͚̒̈́́█̴̛̛̛͍͕̳̼̅̐̓̎́̈́̄̾̈́̑͒͒̈̓͆̈̏̿͊̋̌́̕̚͝͠ͅ█̸̢̻̲̜͈͈̩̳̹̳̈͋͋̐̒́̎́̓͋͌̏̎̊͊̈́͆̈́̃̀̾̐̾̚█̶̢̧̧͔̪͔̬͔̹̜̯̫̪͍͗͂̉̆͐͐̓͂̑͂̑̊͌̿̊̕͠ͅ█̶̞̝̼̱͊͆̂̍̍̒̅̐̅̃͊͐̍̽̑̈́̌̔͊͌̓̀͌͂͒̕̕█̷̧̪͎͈͉͇͎͖̦̊͐̒̆́͌̃͗̌̋͊̉͑̕͜͝█̵̨̘̺̬̻̬̪̟̳̮̜̐̽͑̆͂͛̇́̽̋̆̓͆̌͝͠█̶̧̠͎̳͖̥͚̳̞̜̣̱̣̗̫̥̞́̍̏̓͒̿̈́̇̈́̽̚̕̕█̸̢̧̧̛̝̙̣̬͇̹̭̳̦̭̞̺̣̻̲̪̪̥̯̤̭̮̅́̓̐̆͛̊̀̋͆̇̿̓́̽̂̋̕͝͝█̶̢̝̩̱̠͕̦̼͍̗̊̈́̏́̐̂̈́̅̐̽̀̌̈́͐͛́̓͗̄̊̇̕̚̚͝͠͝͝█̶̧̘̺͔̻͈̠̠̜̰̘̌̉̌̉͛͆̾͐̽̅̇̍̄̃̈̑̎̍̇̏̈̒̾͂͌͘͘█̵̧̧̦͇͙͈͓̹̗͍̯͕̠̲͍͙͙́̔͆̔̄̃̚█̶̧̡̨̦͚̯̤̼̭̺̺͖̬̘͇͔̥̲̯͉̪̤͚͗͝█̷̢̧̫͍̺̖̻̯͚̯͕̻̩̺̠̮͆ͅ█̴̹̳̳̳̎̄͗̉͑̑͂̈́̔͆̀̊͛̓͊̑̓̓̀͛͊͘͝͠͝█̷̢̢͎͇͕͈̤̱̞̹̟̭̣͆̎̇̆̿̋͛͌̽̂͋̔̕͘͝█̵̛͈̻̮̣̭̤̰̼̼̺̓͑̿̑̃́̓̀̈́̈̇͗̇͌̽̌̈́̈͝█̷̧̧̧̛̛͍̙̝̪̩̦̪͓̪̤̟̼̝͑̽͐̏̀̈͑̓̇͋̽̃̓͛̍̆̒͘̚͠ͅ█̶̨̡̧̢̛̬̪͉̮̰̘̙͚͉̺̖͉͔̲͊̈́́̇̆̀͗̂̆͊̑̆͛̔̌̐̚͜͠͝͝͝͝█̶̨̧͓̭͉̰̯̹͕̞͍͈̤̺̫̋̃̏̍͆̌́̊̐͂͒͑̊̕͠ͅ█̵̞̫̤̪͚̱̖̺̩͈͕̲̩̝̔̊͋̿̓̾͗̔̕̚͘͝͠ͅ█̸̡̡͈̬̜̞̟͉͍̰̜͔̰̳̖̜̓͆̿̊̍́̈́͐͋̑̄͒̆͛̚͝ͅ█̸͔̂̿̄̂̓̎̑͑̔̆̓̍̄̈́̂̀̀̈̀͘͘͠͠█̷̢͖̳̜̗͓̣̙͇̖̮̥͚̈́̈́̇͒̈█̵̨̨̼̫͎̖̟̟̰̹̥͉̮̙͎͚̭̞̭͎̭̩͖̓̈̊͗̈́̅̾̇͌̂̈́̋̂͜͝ͅ█̷̧̨̤̮͈̱̻̤̣̳͎̜͍̖̫̱̩̫̯͓̩̤̭͇̯̰̳̼̿̓̊̂͂̀̀͆͆̿͑̊̆̈̍̕͜͝͝ _

_ ̴̨̨̛̻̲̟̪̞͉̹̼̗͙̖̈̔̆̉͆̑̒́͋̔̐̕͠͝█̸̧̡̨̠̱̣͔̘̝̜̦͓̬̻̟̮̭̰̙̞̪̳̮͍̀̌̒̓̋̓́͌͆̿͗́̃̌͗̌͋̇̎̿̔̆̊͘̚͜͠͠͝█̴̧̡̛͕͕̘̗̭̫̟̺͍͓̬̪̠̬̥̯̩̟̭͖̲̯̈́͌̍͋̑̓̀̀͋͛̔̈́̎͋̐͂̀̀̏͘͜͜͝ͅ█̴̨̨̛̺͔̟̫̮̱̖͈̯̙͉͔̰̹̍̍͆̀̌̀̌͝█̵̢̣̫͖̝̰̦̹̮̺͖̝̞̙̖̞̟͙͍͇̜͔͒͛͐̄̋̀̓͌̿̃̀͊̾̌̿̃͘̚͜͝█̵̡̺̲̝̙̗̝͉̯̯͚̚̚█̶͉̂̍̈͒█̷̨̢̛̞̲̳͚͓̝̲̪͙̊͛̿̈́͐̓̄͌̾́̍͗́̅̐̾̃̎͗̐͘͘͘͠█̶̧̨̢̛͓̘͍̻̯̦̲̥̞̠̩̬̦͗͒̌͒̈́̓͋̽͛́̋̌̐̐̃̿͒̑̋͋̉̿͌̉̐͠͝█̷̛̝̦̓̏͗́̀͂͋͌͛͑́̽͐͊̾̈́̈́̽͌̏̾̚͝͝͝█̸̨̧̢̪̟̺̺̺̤̮͉̭̫͕͙̥̯̬̦̏͗͊͋̑͐̊͒̍͒͋͘̚͜͠█̵̡̗͖͍̥̣̐͛̾̾͋̈͌͒͒̄̂̇̈́̚͝█̴̢̨̡̳̪̦̞̞̞̜̱͙̦͙͙̫͓̟͍͍̳̪͈͎̙͕͎̈́̎̅̈́͜͜█̴̡̢̼̰͔̝̻͇̫̘͓̪̤̰̫̆̇̓̉͐̎͝͝͝█̶̧̣̖̿̿̏̊̎̅͊͊̚͝█̸̡̢̧̛͈̻̝̰̙̮͖͓̏̀͑̈́̑̅̽͋̇̓̑͗͛̈̾͆͒͒̎̇̋̓͊͛̒͗̕͜█̶̞̘̣͕̹̞͈͓̲̖͕̙͍̰͓͕̼̀́͗͒̒̄̆̇͋̈͒̉̏̄͗͂͐͗͒̇͑̕̚̕͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅ█̵̢͉͇̰̱͈̯̏̆̔̆͑͐̇͛̈́̈͆̓̍͘̚ͅ█̴̧̨̨̗̠̦͖͉̹͍̫̘̣̦̠̦̞̞̫̜̤̪͚̠̤̈͛̄͜͝ͅ█̸̲̹̏͌͐͊̈́̽̊͛̇̎̄͒̏̐́̈́͗͌̽̀̽█̵̡̡̢̛̱͉͙̝̦̻̱̤̜͙͉̼͉̭̦͚̪̭̘͍͉̪̟͍̒̈͆͐̈͑̄͜͜͠█̶̛͙̤͇̲̾̌́͋̐̆͑̿̔̑̀̋̐̉̋̕͘͝͠█̶̛̛͍̬̥̯̼̼͇͎͇̰̬̬͎̳͕̫͙̙͆͂̍̋̓̓̀͛̑̉͑̈́̚̚͜█̷̢͇̱͎͉̣͓̹͉̮͉̹̫͓͌̃̈́̿͂̂̔̿̓̍̐̊̏̓̇̍͊͐̍̾̕̕͠͠͠͝█̴͔̼̗̦̟̻̟̥̗̝͍̹̺̪͙̦̞̦͚̱̼̪̽̈̾̽́͆̆́́̂͘͝█̵̨̧̰͖̯͍̟̙̰͍̟̹̯͕̙̙̫̬̖̪̮͍͓̯̪̬̩̲̐͌̏͑̄̔͋̃̉͋̀̑͗͑̅̽̈́̍͗̏̐̉͑̈́̌̐͒͜͝͠█̸̡̨̻̳͇̮͖̹̮̮̝͓̩̺̜͉͓̫̩̙̻̝͍̥̆͘͜͝ͅĀ̴̡̧̛̬̠̰̹͊̾͌̊l̵̡͍͕͆̄̈̍̊͘ͅl̸̬̻̈́͌ ̴̢̟͚͓̂̈́̚͜ͅI̶̢͇͇̼̩̝̟̓̐̒̅͊͐͝ ̸̡̧̡͕̭̻̼̏̊͑̄̈͝͝ē̵̦̲̪̔̑̈́̚͘͝v̸̺̙̪̥̠̱̭͒̄͂͊̆̾e̸͙͆͊͒͛́ṟ̷̨̗̜͚͙͐͛͆̐͜ ̶̛̲̫̱̠̱͉́̏̊̑͂w̵̞͇͙̹̮̓̒̏͛̆̕a̴̢̤͇͇͉̅̈͑n̶͈̯̻̓͗͒̊̑͐ṫ̶̡̤̰͇́̚e̴͔͕͂͊͒̀͒̏d̵̙̮͕̝͓̗͑ ̷͙̜̮̱̯͍̜̽w̶̼̦̬̙̦̭͒͆̈́̔͝͝a̶͉͛̽̓̒̌͠s̴̢̤͊̀͛̈́̿ ̸̯͇́̐͛͑̃́͝w̵̼̭͉͖̓̊͒̌̃h̵͖̼͖̋ą̵̖͙̼͓̩̈ͅt̸̤͓̤̽̇̂͌̽͠ ̵͖̳̣̦́̽̂̂I̷̛̺͘ ̷̨̛̈́̉̀̊ẃ̸̞͇͍̈́̊̆à̴̼̰̼̮̪̫́̾̋s̸̙̈́̓̈́ ̸̠͙̗̀͝t̴͈̖̥̹̪̖̾̌̾̀̆o̵̟̼͎̲͔̎͆l̸̤̱̊̚ͅd̷̼̃̕ ̸͓̜̮̾̎̋́̋I̵̛͖̭͖̭̩̅̈́͆ͅ ̸͚̙̃w̶͔̻͋a̴̺̮͙̗͖͇̟͛̀́́̐͝s̸̢͖̗͎̫̬̩̅͂̈́͗̃͗̌ ̵͔̰͙̻͐̀̆̓̀̚͝ö̴̳́̎̾̒͒ẘ̴̝̙̂́̂̈́̄͜͠e̴̝̩͂͘d̷͓̞̜͕͘ _

_ ̴̢̛̗̲͈̖̟̾̈́̑̂̋ͅA̵͈͕̫̙̹̣͊͘ẗ̵́͂͂͂̐̒͝ͅ ̷̦͆́͑̈́͌̾̔w̷͙̤̙̘̍͋̎ḥ̵͖̲͛̂͋̃͆ä̷͓͙̺͉͍̪͗̀͘t̶̀̈́͗͋̚̕̚ͅ ̸̡̮͚̀͗̊̎̏͐͗c̷̤̺͒͊̑o̷̭̓̀̚s̵̭͚̼̗͔͙̔́́͐̂̍ẗ̸̛̥́̑͆̕?̴̪͘ͅ ̵̝̻̗̹͖͝Ī̷̼͖̐'̴̯͓̻͖͈̟͋̓͊̓͆l̴̛̠͖͔͚͍̘̦̆̔̂͆͌̊l̷̨͉͉̝͛́̓̂͗̔͝ͅ ̵̰̾n̶̪̮͘e̴̬̮̦̥̭͚͋̈́̀̈̏̚̕v̵̩̠̊͛̅̅͌ȅ̴̡̢̤̳͇̩r̵͚͖̹̯̬͍̝̿͒͌͘ ̵̠͍̲͐ḱ̷̡̹͎͎̥̿ͅͅň̴̰̙͜ȍ̵͓̪͓̲̭̦͒̑͘̚w̴̨̞̜̋͆ _

_ █̶̢̧̧͔̪͔̬͔̹̜̯̫̪͍͗͂̉̆͐͐̓͂̑͂̑̊͌̿̊̕͠ͅ█̶̞̝̼̱͊͆̂̍̍̒̅̐̅̃͊͐̍̽̑̈́̌̔͊͌̓̀͌͂͒̕̕█̷̧̪͎͈͉͇͎͖̦̊͐̒̆́͌̃͗̌̋͊̉͑̕͜͝█̵̨̘̺̬̻̬̪̟̳̮̜̐̽͑̆͂͛̇́̽̋̆̓͆̌͝͠█̶̧̠͎̳͖̥͚̳̞̜̣̱̣̗̫̥̞́̍̏̓͒̿̈́̇̈́̽̚̕̕█̸̢̧̧̛̝̙̣̬͇̹̭̳̦̭̞̺̣̻̲̪̪̥̯̤̭̮̅́̓̐̆͛̊̀̋͆̇̿̓́̽̂̋̕͝͝█̶̢̝̩̱̠͕̦̼͍̗̊̈́̏́̐̂̈́̅̐̽̀̌̈́͐͛́̓͗̄̊̇̕̚̚͝͠͝͝█̶̧̘̺͔̻͈̠̠̜̰̘̌̉̌̉͛͆̾͐̽̅̇̍̄̃̈̑̎̍̇̏̈̒̾͂͌͘͘█̵̧̧̦͇͙͈͓̹̗͍̯͕̠̲͍͙͙́̔͆̔̄̃̚█̶̧̡̨̦͚̯̤̼̭̺̺͖̬̘͇͔̥̲̯͉̪̤͚͗͝█̷̢̧̫͍̺̖̻̯͚̯͕̻̩̺̠̮͆ͅ█̴̹̳̳̳̎̄͗̉͑̑͂̈́̔͆̀̊͛̓͊̑̓̓̀͛͊͘͝͠͝█̷̢̢͎͇͕͈̤̱̞̹̟̭̣͆̎̇̆̿̋͛͌̽̂͋̔̕͘͝█̵̛͈̻̮̣̭̤̰̼̼̺̓͑̿̑̃́̓̀̈́̈̇͗̇͌̽̌̈́̈͝█̷̧̧̧̛̛͍̙̝̪̩̦̪͓̪̤̟̼̝͑̽͐̏̀̈͑̓̇͋̽̃̓͛̍̆̒͘̚͠ͅ█̶̨̡̧̢̛̬̪͉̮̰̘̙͚͉̺̖͉͔̲͊̈́́̇̆̀͗̂̆͊̑̆͛̔̌̐̚͜͠͝͝͝͝█̶̨̧͓̭͉̰̯̹͕̞͍͈̤̺̫̋̃̏̍͆̌́̊̐͂͒͑̊̕͠ͅ█̵̞̫̤̪͚̱̖̺̩͈͕̲̩̝̔̊͋̿̓̾͗̔̕̚͘͝͠ͅ█̸̡̡͈̬̜̞̟͉͍̰̜͔̰̳̖̜̓͆̿̊̍́̈́͐͋̑̄͒̆͛̚͝ͅ█̸͔̂̿̄̂̓̎̑͑̔̆̓̍̄̈́̂̀̀̈̀͘͘͠͠█̷̢͖̳̜̗͓̣̙͇̖̮̥͚̈́̈́̇͒̈█̵̨̨̼̫͎̖̟̟̰̹̥͉̮̙͎͚̭̞̭͎̭̩͖̓̈̊͗̈́̅̾̇͌̂̈́̋̂͜͝ͅ█̷̧̨̤̮͈̱̻̤̣̳͎̜͍̖̫̱̩̫̯͓̩̤̭͇̯̰̳̼̿̓̊̂͂̀̀͆͆̿͑̊̆̈̍̕͜͝͝ _

_ ̴̨̨̛̻̲̟̪̞͉̹̼̗͙̖̈̔̆̉͆̑̒́͋̔̐̕͠͝█̸̧̡̨̠̱̣͔̘̝̜̦͓̬̻̟̮̭̰̙̞̪̳̮͍̀̌̒̓̋̓́͌͆̿͗́̃̌͗̌͋̇̎̿̔̆̊͘̚͜͠͠͝█̴̧̡̛͕͕̘̗̭̫̟̺͍͓̬̪̠̬̥̯̩̟̭͖̲̯̈́͌̍͋̑̓̀̀͋͛̔̈́̎͋̐͂̀̀̏͘͜͜͝ͅ█̴̨̨̛̺͔̟̫̮̱̖͈̯̙͉͔̰̹̍̍͆̀̌̀̌͝█̵̢̣̫͖̝̰̦̹̮̺͖̝̞̙̖̞̟͙͍͇̜͔͒͛͐̄̋̀̓͌̿̃̀͊̾̌̿̃͘̚͜͝█̵̡̺̲̝̙̗̝͉̯̯͚̚̚█̶͉̂̍̈͒█̷̨̢̛̞̲̳͚͓̝̲̪͙̊͛̿̈́͐̓̄͌̾́̍͗́̅̐̾̃̎͗̐͘͘͘͠█̶̧̨̢̛͓̘͍̻̯̦̲̥̞̠̩̬̦͗͒̌͒̈́̓͋̽͛́̋̌̐̐̃̿͒̑̋͋̉̿͌̉̐͠͝█̷̛̝̦̓̏͗́̀͂͋͌͛͑́̽͐͊̾̈́̈́̽͌̏̾̚͝͝͝█̸̨̧̢̪̟̺̺̺̤̮͉̭̫͕͙̥̯̬̦̏͗͊͋̑͐̊͒̍͒͋͘̚͜͠█̵̡̗͖͍̥̣̐͛̾̾͋̈͌͒͒̄̂̇̈́̚͝█̴̢̨̡̳̪̦̞̞̞̜̱͙̦͙͙̫͓̟͍͍̳̪͈͎̙͕͎̈́̎̅̈́͜͜█̴̡̢̼̰͔̝̻͇̫̘͓̪̤̰̫̆̇̓̉͐̎͝͝͝█̶̧̣̖̿̿̏̊̎̅͊͊̚͝█̸̡̢̧̛͈̻̝̰̙̮͖͓̏̀͑̈́̑̅̽͋̇̓̑͗͛̈̾͆͒͒̎̇̋̓͊͛̒͗̕͜█̶̞̘̣͕̹̞͈͓̲̖͕̙͍̰͓͕̼̀́͗͒̒̄̆̇͋̈͒̉̏̄͗͂͐͗͒̇͑̕̚̕͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅ█̵̢͉͇̰̱͈̯̏̆̔̆͑͐̇͛̈́̈͆̓̍͘̚ͅ█̴̧̨̨̗̠̦͖͉̹͍̫̘̣̦̠̦̞̞̫̜̤̪͚̠̤̈͛̄͜͝ͅ█̸̲̹̏͌͐͊̈́̽̊͛̇̎̄͒̏̐́̈́͗͌̽̀̽█̵̡̡̢̛̱͉͙̝̦̻̱̤̜͙͉̼͉̭̦͚̪̭̘͍͉̪̟͍̒̈͆͐̈͑̄͜͜͠ _

 

 

 

 

 

 

_ ̶M̴r̵.̶ ̴I̶e̷r̵o̶’̵s̴ ̷e̴y̴e̸s̷ ̴l̴o̸o̸k̵e̴d̶ ̴u̵p̷ ̴a̶t̵ ̴t̴h̵e̴ ̸t̷e̷l̸e̷v̶i̸s̶i̸o̸n̸ ̴s̴c̴r̵e̷e̶n̶ ̸t̴h̵a̷t̶ ̴w̵a̶s̸ ̵p̸l̵a̶c̷e̵d̶ ̷i̸n̴ ̴f̸r̷o̴n̴t̶ ̷o̸f̷ ̷h̷i̵m̶,̷ ̶“̶W̷h̵a̴t̴’̶s̶ ̸t̸h̴a̸t̷?̵”̴ ̴h̷e̶ ̴q̸u̴e̶s̵t̵i̴o̷n̴e̴d̶ ̸w̵i̶t̷h̴ ̴w̶o̴r̶r̵y̴ ̵i̵n̴ ̸h̵i̶s̸ ̴v̷o̷i̵c̸e̶.̴ _

_ ̷ ̷ _

_ ̶T̴h̵e̷ ̴c̵r̷o̴w̴ ̸d̶u̴g̵ ̷t̷h̶e̶ ̵k̵n̷i̵f̶e̷ ̶u̸n̵d̴e̵r̸ ̸t̵h̸e̷ ̵s̷e̸c̴o̷n̴d̸ ̴o̴n̸e̴ ̸o̸f̶ ̵M̶r̶.̸ ̵I̵e̵r̷o̸’̴s̶ ̸s̷t̴i̷t̶c̷h̵e̶s̷ ̸a̷n̵d̷ ̵d̷u̵g̴ ̵t̷h̸e̶i̸r̷ ̵f̸i̵n̵g̷e̴r̵s̴ ̴a̴r̴o̵u̶n̴d̷ ̸t̶h̴e̸ ̸s̴t̴r̶i̸n̴g̴ ̵a̵n̶d̷ ̶y̶a̸n̸k̷e̸d̷ ̷i̸t̸ ̶o̵u̸t̸.̷ ̷M̴r̵.̴ ̴I̷e̷r̶o̸ ̸f̷l̴i̷n̴c̶h̵e̸d̴.̸ ̶“̸O̷h̷ ̴n̵o̴t̴h̶i̴n̸g̴,̸ ̷j̵u̵s̶t̵ ̴a̷ ̸l̸i̵t̵t̴l̸e̶ ̷e̴n̵t̷e̷r̷t̷a̸i̶n̶m̶e̸n̶t̸ ̷f̴o̸r̷ ̵y̴o̵u̶,̸”̴ ̸t̴h̴e̸ ̵‘̵C̴r̶o̴w̴ ̵c̴o̶o̷d̸ ̴w̷i̴t̷h̴ ̴s̶a̵r̷c̸a̷s̵m̵ ̸d̷r̷i̷p̵p̸i̶n̷g̴ ̶f̸r̶o̷m̶ ̵h̸i̸s̴ ̵w̷o̷r̶d̷s̷.̵ _

_ ̵ ̷ _

_ ̷M̸r̷ ̶I̴e̸r̴o̶ ̶l̴o̴o̸k̸e̷d̵ ̷a̵t̷ ̷t̶h̷e̵ ̴s̸c̷r̷e̷e̶n̶ ̶w̴i̴t̴h̵ ̴h̶i̵s̶ ̸f̵o̷r̶e̵h̵e̴a̴d̶ ̴w̴r̶i̵n̴k̸l̵e̵d̷ ̷i̴n̸ ̶c̸o̶n̶f̶u̸s̸i̴o̵n̵,̶ ̵a̷n̵d̸ ̷i̴f̴ ̵P̶o̵i̵s̵o̴n̵ ̸w̴a̷s̸ ̵g̵o̵i̸n̸g̷ ̶t̴o̷ ̶b̷e̸ ̷h̴o̶n̶e̵s̶t̵ ̴i̷f̷ ̸h̸e̷ ̸w̸a̴s̵n̸’̸t̴ ̷s̸t̷r̵a̸p̶p̴e̷d̴ ̴t̷o̷ ̷a̷ ̵h̴o̵s̶p̷i̴t̶a̶l̵ ̵b̴e̵d̵ ̵g̸e̴t̶t̴i̵n̸g̶ ̷p̵o̶k̵e̵d̵ ̶a̵n̵d̴ ̶p̸r̸o̸d̶d̶e̷d̸ ̸b̶y̴ ̸S̵c̵a̴r̴e̷c̷r̸o̸w̴s̶ ̸h̴e̴’̸d̵ ̷l̴o̵o̶k̷ ̸f̴u̵c̶k̷i̴n̶g̷ ̴a̵d̸o̸r̴a̷b̴l̴e̷.̴ ̷ _

_ _

_ ̶M̴r̴.̷ ̶I̸e̶r̶o̵ ̵l̴e̵t̵ ̵o̶u̴t̶ ̶a̴ ̴g̶a̸s̴p̴ ̵w̸h̴e̵n̴ ̸h̶e̵ ̷r̶e̶a̵l̷i̴z̶e̶d̸ ̸w̷h̸a̵t̴ ̴h̶e̴ ̴w̴a̷s̸ ̸w̴a̴t̴c̵h̴i̶n̷g̸,̶ ̵h̴i̷s̵ ̵l̶i̴p̸s̴ ̸m̴o̷v̵e̴d̷ ̶t̴o̷ ̴f̷o̴r̴m̸ ̸t̴h̵e̵ ̶w̶o̸r̶d̸ ̴“̵P̶o̴i̵s̵o̴n̸,̸”̶ _

 

 

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _ _ _

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

 

 

_ Poison felt sick. Were they showing Mr. Iero footage of  _ his  _ torture? _

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝              █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

_ ̴ _

_ T̷h̵e̷ ̸‘̴C̵r̴o̸w̸ ̷d̸u̴g̶ ̵i̴n̶t̸o̸ ̶h̵i̵s̴ ̴s̷t̵i̴t̶c̷h̷e̵s̸ ̶a̴g̸a̴i̵n̷ ̵a̴n̴d̴ ̴j̵e̴r̵k̴e̶d̸ ̵o̸u̶t̷.̷ ̵T̷h̸e̷ ̵f̸e̴e̸l̷i̸n̷g̴ ̴o̵f̷ ̴s̷t̴r̷i̵n̴g̸ ̶b̶e̶i̸n̶g̴ ̶y̵a̷n̴k̵e̷d̶ ̴o̵u̷t̵ ̷o̶f̶ ̸h̷i̷s̴ ̸f̷l̴e̷s̷h̵ ̸f̴e̶l̷t̵ ̷l̴i̸k̷e̸ ̵h̶e̷l̸l̸.̵ ̷M̴r̶.̴ ̶I̶e̸r̶o̸ ̴s̷q̶u̶e̴e̸z̸e̸d̶ ̷h̵i̵s̸ ̶e̵y̵e̸s̸ ̵s̸h̵u̴t̶ ̴o̸n̶l̷y̷ ̴t̶o̷ ̷e̵a̵r̶n̷ ̸a̶ ̸c̸h̵o̴r̴u̴s̵ ̴o̶f̵ ̵l̴a̶u̵g̸h̵t̸e̶r̵s̸ ̷f̵r̵o̵m̷ ̶t̷h̸e̵ ̶c̷r̵o̷w̶s̶.̵ _

_ _

_ ̴A̴n̴o̶t̵h̶e̸r̶ ̸‘̸C̸r̵o̶w̶ ̸o̴n̸ ̵M̴r̴.̸ ̴I̸e̷r̸o̴’̸s̷ ̵r̶i̸g̶h̷t̷ ̴p̴u̶t̵ ̴t̷h̸e̴i̴r̸ ̴g̵l̶o̵v̶e̵d̸ ̵h̷a̴n̸d̴s̶ ̴o̴n̴ ̸h̸i̵s̶ ̶f̴a̸c̵e̶ ̵a̸n̶d̶ ̶f̸o̶r̷c̸e̵d̴ ̸h̸i̵s̶ ̵e̶y̸e̵s̶ ̸w̸i̷d̷e̷ ̴o̴p̴e̸n̷.̶ ̶“̸W̴h̵a̴t̸’̷s̶ ̵w̴r̴o̴n̵g̷ ̵F̶r̵a̸n̸k̶i̶e̸?̴ ̶C̷a̴n̷’̴t̷ ̷s̶t̷a̸n̸d̸ ̵t̸o̶ ̵s̸e̸e̸ ̶y̴o̵u̷r̵ ̵L̴o̷v̴e̸r̵ ̴B̸o̴y̸’̴s̶ ̵f̸a̷c̷e̸ ̵g̶e̶t̶ ̸m̵e̵s̷s̴e̶d̶ ̸u̸p̴?̷”̶ ̷t̸h̸e̵ ̴‘̸C̶r̷o̶w̴ ̷t̶e̶a̷s̵e̷d̶.̷ _

_ ̴ ̷ _

_ ̵“̴D̵o̴n̶’̵t̶ ̸f̶u̴c̵k̶i̷n̸g̶ ̷c̴a̴l̸l̶ ̷m̶e̶ ̸t̵h̸a̸t̶ ̶y̵o̵u̵ ̵b̵i̷t̴c̵h̶.̵ ̵G̵o̴ ̸s̴u̶c̴k̶ ̵m̶y̷ ̵d̷i̸c̴k̴!̵”̶ ̴M̵r̷.̸ ̵I̶e̴r̶o̶ ̸r̷e̸t̴o̵r̷t̸e̴d̸ ̶a̷s̶ ̴m̷e̷m̷o̶r̴i̸e̵s̵ ̶c̶a̶m̵e̴ ̶f̶l̷o̷o̶d̸i̵n̸g̵ ̵b̵a̶c̶k̵.̶ _

_ ̴ _

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝                                                      █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

_ ̴ _

_ ̴ _

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

 

_ “ⱧɆɎ ₣Ɽ₳₦₭łɆ,” ₱Øł₴Ø₦ ₣ⱠłⱤ₮ɆĐ    _

_ “₣Ɽ₳₦₭łɆ ɎɆⱤØ. ɎØɄ Ɽ₳₮,” ₱Øł₴Ø₦ Ⱡ₳Ʉ₲ⱧɆĐ ₳₮ ₮ⱧɆ ₴ł₲Ⱨ₮ Ø₣ ₥Ɽ. łɆⱤØ Ⱨ₳Vł₦₲ ฿ɄⱤ₦ɆĐ ĐØ₩₦ Ⱨł₴ ₣₳VØⱤł₮Ɇ ₵ⱠɄ฿.    _

_ “₵Ø₥Ɇ Ø₦ ₣Ɽ₳₦₭łɆ!” ₱Øł₴Ø₦ ₱ⱠɆ₳ĐɆĐ, ⱧɆ ₴Ø ฿₳ĐⱠɎ ĐłĐ₦’₮ ₩₳₦₮ ₮Ø ₲Ɇ₮ ₳ ₮₳₮₮ØØ Ø₣ ₥Ɽ. łɆⱤØ’₴ ₭łⱠⱠJØɎ ₴Ɏ₥฿ØⱠ Ø₦ Ⱨł₴ ₳₴₴. ฿Ʉ₮ ₳ ฿Ɇ₮ ₩₳₴ ₳ ฿Ɇ₮, ₳₦Đ ₥Ɽ. łɆⱤØ ₩₳₴₦’₮ Ø₦Ɇ ₮Ø ฿ⱤɆ₳₭ ₮ⱧɆ₥.   _

_ “₣Ɽ₳₦₭łɆ!” ₱Øł₴Ø₦ ₴ⱧⱤłɆ₭ɆĐ. ₥Ɽ. łɆⱤØ’₴ ɆɎɆ₴ Đ₳Ɽ₮ɆĐ ₳ⱤØɄ₦Đ ₮Ø ₣ł₦Đ Ⱨł₥  _

_ ฿Ʉ₮ ₳ⱠⱠ ⱧɆ ₵ØɄⱠĐ ₴ɆɆ ₩₳₴ ₩Ⱨł₮Ɇ. _

 

 

_ ̶█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

 

 

_ _

_ ̵ ̴ _

_ ̶“̸B̸u̷t̸ ̷I̷ ̷t̴h̶o̷u̷g̷h̵t̴ ̸t̴h̶a̴t̶ ̶w̶a̸s̷ ̶w̵h̵y̸ ̴y̶o̸u̴ ̷h̶a̴d̷ ̴y̸o̵u̵r̸ ̶l̷o̶v̴e̸r̴ ̶b̵o̵y̴ ̷a̷r̴o̴u̸n̷d̷,̸ ̸t̵o̶ ̶s̷u̴c̶k̷ ̴y̸o̷u̴r̵ ̶d̶i̷c̸k̷.̴ ̸O̷r̴ ̷c̷a̷n̷ ̸y̵o̸u̷ ̶n̵o̵t̴ ̸s̴t̵a̷n̶d̷ ̶h̴i̴s̸ ̷f̴a̴c̴e̴ ̷a̵l̷l̸ ̶b̵l̸o̷o̷d̶i̴e̶d̷ ̷u̷p̸.̷ ̸W̸o̸w̸,̵ ̴a̶n̶d̴ ̴I̶ ̸t̶h̴o̸u̵g̸h̴t̵ ̶y̶o̷u̶ ̴w̶e̷r̴e̵ ̸i̴n̷t̷o̶ ̷t̵h̶e̶ ̶n̸a̴s̸t̵y̴ ̷s̷t̵u̵f̷f̴ ̶v̷a̸n̸i̸l̷l̶a̶ ̸s̶p̷i̶c̵e̷,̵”̴ ̴t̴h̸e̷ ̵h̶e̷a̷d̵ ̶‘̵C̷r̶o̶w̷ ̷m̶u̶s̴e̵d̴ ̵a̵s̴ ̵h̷e̵ ̴f̴i̷n̸i̷s̸h̴e̶d̴ ̸o̴f̴f̸ ̵t̶h̷e̴ ̴r̵e̸s̷t̷ ̵o̸f̷ ̸M̸r̶.̷ ̵I̷e̵r̷o̴’̴s̵ ̷s̵t̵i̷t̸c̷h̶e̷s̶.̴ ̸T̶h̴e̶ ̶e̵n̴t̷i̴r̶e̷ ̶l̸e̵f̸t̴ ̶s̶i̷d̸e̴ ̷o̷f̵ ̶h̵i̸s̸ ̸f̷a̸c̷e̴ ̵w̶a̵s̶ ̴a̵ ̸g̶i̶a̵n̸t̸ ̷b̶l̵o̸o̵d̸i̸e̷d̷ ̴m̴e̶s̸s̸.̴ _

_ _

_ ̶T̷h̷e̷ ̶‘̵C̴r̷o̵w̶ ̶t̷o̴s̷s̵e̷d̸ ̵t̷h̷e̶ ̵k̷n̴i̷f̵e̵ ̸o̵n̶ ̵t̸h̵e̶ ̴m̸e̸d̴i̶c̸a̶l̸ ̵t̵r̷a̷y̴ ̸a̶n̶d̸ ̵w̸a̶l̸k̶e̴d̵ ̷o̸f̸f̶ ̸t̷o̶ ̸i̶n̸s̶p̶e̴c̶t̸ ̵w̸h̴a̴t̶ ̷e̷l̴s̸e̴ ̸h̷e̷ ̷c̷o̶u̶l̵d̸ ̵d̵o̵ ̵t̵o̸ ̷h̷i̶s̴ ̸n̸e̷w̸ ̵l̷a̶b̵ ̸r̶a̷t̸.̴ ̴T̷h̸a̵t̷ ̸l̸e̵f̶t̴ ̸a̵n̷o̴t̷h̶e̴r̶ ̵c̵r̴o̴w̷ ̵i̴n̶ ̶c̴h̷a̷r̸g̸e̶,̸ ̷a̸n̸o̸t̴h̶e̵r̷ ̶‘̵C̵r̷o̸w̸ ̸t̶o̷ ̶g̵u̶f̷f̴a̶w̷ ̴a̴t̸ ̶M̷r̴.̶ ̸I̴e̵r̶o̷’̶s̶ ̴s̸u̶f̸f̴e̶r̷i̸n̸g̷.̵ _

_ ̵ ̷ _

_ ̶T̶h̷e̵ ̵‘̵C̸r̸o̷w̶ ̸s̶a̵t̴ ̴a̶t̴ ̸t̸h̸e̷ ̸m̶o̵c̵c̸e̶r̶y̵ ̶o̴f̶ ̶a̴ ̶n̵i̴g̵h̷t̷s̵t̵a̵n̸d̸ ̸a̸n̵d̷ ̴l̶o̷o̷k̵e̶d̶ ̴d̵o̶w̶n̵ ̷a̶t̶ ̶M̶r̴.̸ ̷I̶e̶r̴o̵,̵ ̵t̸h̸e̴ ̷b̵l̶a̵c̴k̵ ̸a̶n̵d̷ ̸w̴h̵i̷t̸e̷ ̶s̴m̵i̵l̸e̸y̶ ̴f̸a̸c̵e̶ ̴b̸u̷r̷n̵e̵d̶ ̸i̴n̴t̶o̴ ̷M̸r̵.̶ ̴I̶e̷r̶o̸’̶s̶ ̷m̵e̶m̷o̶r̵y̷ ̴f̸o̸r̶e̶v̷e̶r̸.̵ ̶ _

_ ̵ ̶ _

_ _

_ ̴ ̵ _

_ _

_ _

_ ̵“̶S̷h̸h̴h̸h̸,̵”̵ ̷t̵h̷e̴ ̸‘̴C̵r̴o̶w̵ ̶h̸i̶s̵s̸e̶d̵ ̶i̶n̵ ̵a̵ ̴m̵o̴c̸ ̸f̷l̵i̴r̷t̷.̵ ̶“̴M̷a̶y̵b̶e̴ ̴y̸o̴u̴’̴d̴ ̴l̵i̶k̴e̶ ̸t̷o̵ ̷t̸a̴k̶e̶ ̷a̵ ̶s̶p̴i̶n̸ ̴o̸n̸ ̸t̴h̴e̵ ̶o̷t̴h̴e̶r̸ ̷s̴i̵d̴e̷…̸”̷ ̵t̶h̶e̸ ̶‘̵C̵r̶o̸w̶ ̷f̸l̵i̶r̷t̸e̵d̴.̸ _

_ _

_ _

_ ̵ ̸ _

_̴_ _̵“̷W̶h̶y̸…̴ ̸I̴ ̸d̴o̵ ̷h̵a̴v̶e̴ ̷a̵ ̵f̸a̴c̵e̴…̷ ̵w̸a̸n̶n̷a̴ ̶s̸e̴e̷ ̴i̶t̴?̶”̷ ̶T̶h̴e̷ ̵s̴m̴i̷r̷k̶ ̵i̵n̵ ̴t̷h̶e̵ ̴‘̸C̸r̸o̵w̴’̵s̵ ̵v̷o̵i̵c̸e̶ ̴t̵o̴l̷d̴ ̵M̵r̵.̸ ̵I̷e̸r̷o̶ ̶t̷h̷a̴t̸ ̸h̸e̸ ̵w̶a̸s̷ ̵g̷o̷i̵n̸g̷ ̷t̵o̴ ̶e̷a̷t̶ ̵h̴i̷s̷ ̶w̴o̵r̵d̶s̵.̵ ̶A̸n̶d̶ ̷t̸h̸a̵t̴ ̵t̷h̷e̶y̸’̴d̷ ̷t̶a̶s̷t̸e̵ ̶w̴o̴r̷s̸t̵ ̴t̷h̸a̶n̴ ̷a̴ ̸c̴a̵n̴ ̵o̸f̵ ̴P̷o̶w̶e̵r̵ ̴P̷u̵p̸.̴ ̸T̶h̵e̵ ̴‘̸C̸r̸o̵w̷ ̸j̶u̷m̷p̵e̸d̸ ̴o̴f̵f̶ ̸t̸h̶e̸ ̵n̷i̴g̷h̵t̷s̴t̶a̶n̶d̸.̶ ̶T̴h̴e̴ ̷s̷o̶u̶n̴d̵ ̸o̴f̶ ̴t̴h̴e̴i̵r̷ ̶h̵o̸o̶d̸ ̵u̶n̸z̷i̷p̴p̴i̶n̷g̸ ̵f̶i̸l̴l̸e̵d̵ ̴t̴h̷e̶ ̶f̴o̷o̶t̸a̴g̵e̷ ̷a̴n̶d̴ ̴w̶a̵s̴ ̴q̴u̶i̵c̷k̵l̴y̷ ̴f̸o̸l̸l̵o̵w̷e̵d̸ ̵b̸y̵ ̵M̶r̴.̸ ̷I̷e̵r̶o̵ ̶s̶c̶r̵e̸e̵c̵h̷i̴n̵g̸.̸_

_ ̶ ̵ _

_ ̵I̸t̶ ̸w̴a̶s̵ ̴t̵h̴e̷ ̵m̸o̵s̷t̵ ̸h̴o̶r̵r̶i̶f̸i̶c̶,̶ ̴d̸i̴s̸g̵u̷s̵t̷i̸n̴g̴,̴ ̷p̷a̷i̵n̵f̷u̴l̶ ̴s̴c̸r̵e̸a̶m̸ ̶P̷o̸i̸s̴o̸n̶ ̶h̷a̵d̷ ̶e̴v̶e̶r̵ ̸h̵e̵a̴r̷d̶ ̷G̵h̵o̴u̴l̴ ̵s̴c̴r̵e̴a̴m̷.̸ ̶H̵i̸s̶ ̷f̴a̵c̴e̷ ̷s̵c̵r̵e̴w̸e̷d̷ ̶u̷p̶ ̵i̵n̵t̸o̴ ̷a̵ ̶l̴o̴o̶k̷ ̸o̸f̵ ̷s̶h̷e̷e̷r̴ ̶h̵o̸r̸r̴o̶r̶,̷ ̵l̷i̵k̵e̸ ̴t̸h̶e̴ ̴v̸e̷r̵y̷ ̶s̵i̴g̴h̶t̴ ̶o̸f̷ ̶a̴ ̸‘̶C̷r̷o̵w̴’̷s̴ ̶f̶a̵c̶e̶ ̴w̷o̴u̴l̵d̷ ̵m̷a̸k̶e̸ ̴h̷i̷m̶ ̷d̴r̸o̴p̷ ̵d̴e̶a̶d̵.̵ _

_ ̶ ̸ _

_ _

_ ̶ ̸ _

_ ̷“̶P̷u̴c̸k̸e̴r̴ ̷u̷p̸,̵ ̴d̸e̸s̷e̷r̴t̸ ̴s̸k̴u̷m̷!̵”̸ ̵t̸h̸e̵ ̶‘̶C̵r̷o̷w̸ ̷c̵r̸o̷w̸e̵d̵.̷ _

_ ̴ ̷ _

_ ̷T̴h̵e̵ ̵‘̷C̸r̷o̵w̷ ̵y̶a̴n̷k̵e̸d̸ ̷t̸h̶e̵ ̴t̶u̵b̷e̴ ̸o̵u̷t̴ ̵o̴f̶ ̷M̶r̴.̵ ̴I̵e̸r̶o̷’̶s̷ ̶t̴h̴r̵o̵a̷t̸ ̷t̷h̸e̵n̷ ̶ ̵g̴r̸a̶b̸b̷e̶d̸ ̸M̴r̸.̶ ̵I̸e̷r̵o̵ ̶b̴y̸ ̵t̵h̶e̷ ̵f̷a̴c̴e̶ ̸a̵n̸d̷ ̴p̶l̶a̴n̷t̵e̸d̷ ̵a̵ ̷s̸i̴c̶k̸,̵ ̴s̷l̴o̴p̵p̴y̸ ̸k̵i̸s̷s̸ ̷o̶n̵ ̸t̴h̷e̶ ̶l̶i̸p̴s̴.̶ ̷M̶r̶.̷ ̵I̵e̸r̶o̶’̵s̶ ̴e̶y̴e̸s̶ ̷b̶u̴l̴g̶e̶d̴ ̴o̴u̶t̷ ̷o̶f̴ ̶h̸i̸s̴ ̸s̷k̴u̸l̷l̴ ̷a̸s̸ ̸h̴e̴ ̷s̶t̴r̶u̴g̸g̸l̴e̶d̸ ̸a̷g̶a̷i̶n̷s̵t̸ ̴t̵h̸e̶ ̷‘̸C̵r̸o̵w̸.̵ ̴ _

 

 

 

_ ̵ ̷█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

 

 

_ ̵ _

 

_ Poison was fuming. He wanted to rip that ‘Crow’s face to shreds.  _

_ “Son of a bitch!” he felt himself scream. He heard His Mother and Korse snicker. _

 

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

 

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

 

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

_ ̴ _

 

_ ̷T̷h̸e̸ ̶‘̶C̴r̷o̷w̶ ̷l̶e̶t̷ ̷g̷o̷ ̸o̸f̸ ̴M̸r̶.̶ ̷I̶e̷r̵o̵ ̴a̶n̵d̴ ̴z̸i̷p̴p̷e̷d̸ ̵h̶i̸s̵ ̶h̴o̸o̵d̵ ̸b̵a̸c̸k̸ ̴u̶p̷,̷ ̵“̷H̷e̷y̴ ̷l̷o̷v̴e̶r̵ ̵b̷o̶y̵!̸ ̴H̶o̴w̶ ̵d̵o̷e̴s̶ ̵i̷t̷ ̸f̵e̶e̵l̴ ̶t̵o̴ ̷k̴n̶o̷w̶ ̴t̸h̸a̵t̴ ̷y̷o̸u̸r̵ ̸F̷r̵a̵n̶k̵i̷e̷ ̵g̷o̴t̷ ̵k̵i̸s̷s̷e̶d̶ ̷b̸y̷ ̴s̵o̷m̸e̸o̷n̴e̵ ̶w̴h̷o̸ ̴w̷a̶s̵n̵’̵t̸ ̶y̷o̴u̴!̸”̴ ̷h̶e̴ ̸j̶e̴e̵r̴e̷d̷ ̴t̸o̵ ̶t̸h̵e̶ ̵c̷a̸m̸e̸r̷a̸.̴ _

_ ̷ ̴ _

_̴_ __

_ _

___̶T̶h̷e̶ ̶‘̸C̵r̶o̶w̸ ̸s̴t̸r̶o̸k̷e̵d̷ ̶M̵r̴.̷ ̵I̷e̷r̷o̶ ̶a̶f̵f̷e̵c̷t̴i̴o̶n̴a̷t̸e̵l̸y̸,̷ ̴e̴a̵c̵h̸ ̶t̸o̷u̷c̵h̷ ̵f̷e̶l̶t̴ ̷l̶i̵k̸e̸ ̷M̸r̵.̴ ̷I̷e̸r̴o̴’̵s̵ ̶s̸k̴i̶n̵ ̴w̴a̶s̷ ̶b̷e̶i̶n̸g̶ ̷i̸n̴f̵e̷c̸t̵e̸d̴ ̵b̴y̷ ̴w̴h̷a̵t̸e̵v̷e̵r̸ ̵s̴o̴u̷l̶ ̶s̸u̴c̴k̴i̴n̶g̸ ̵p̶r̸o̶c̷e̵s̸s̶ ̵t̷h̷e̴y̷’̶v̷e̶ ̴b̴e̷e̶n̵ ̸t̸h̷r̸o̸u̴g̸h̷.̸_

_ ̶ ̶ _

_̶_ _̶“̵Y̸e̶a̷h̸,̸ ̵l̸o̶t̶s̴ ̶o̵f̸ ̸f̴u̷n̴,̵”̵ ̸t̵h̷e̶ ̵‘̵C̶r̴o̴w̶ ̵a̷n̷s̶w̶e̶r̸e̶d̸.̸ ̴_

_ ̴ ̴ _

_̶_ _̵“̴O̴h̴!̸ ̷L̴o̴o̴k̷ ̷w̵h̸a̵t̴ ̵h̴a̴p̵p̷e̶n̸e̷d̵ ̶t̷o̵ ̸l̷o̵v̷e̵r̴ ̵b̵o̷y̷!̶”̴ ̸o̵n̵e̸ ̴o̸f̸ ̴t̶h̵e̴ ̴‘̴C̸r̷o̴w̸s̷ ̷e̶x̵c̸l̷a̵i̴m̷e̷d̵.̶ ̴M̶r̵.̴ ̵I̶e̷r̷o̸’̴s̶ ̸e̸y̷e̶s̸ ̴j̵e̷r̴k̴e̴d̶ ̴t̴o̵ ̶t̵h̸e̴ ̵m̷o̴n̵i̴t̶o̸r̴ ̵a̸n̸d̵ ̵l̸e̶t̸ ̸o̸u̸t̶ ̶a̵ ̶s̶c̷r̶e̸a̶m̴.̸_

_ ̵ ̸ _

_̵_ _̵“̶L̵e̶t̶ ̵h̵i̴m̷ ̸t̵h̷e̷ ̶f̸u̴c̷k̵ ̶g̶o̵!̴ ̴N̷o̷w̷!̷ ̵P̸l̷e̷a̶s̵e̸!̶ ̸I̵’̴l̶l̷ ̴d̶o̷ ̵a̷n̴y̷t̵h̴i̵n̵g̸ ̷r̸e̸a̵l̴l̸y̶!̷ ̷J̵u̵s̷t̵ ̸l̶e̴t̶ ̵h̴i̷m̷ ̴g̴o̷!̸ ̷I̷’̵l̵l̸ ̵d̶i̸e̶ ̷i̶f̸ ̵s̸o̶m̶e̶t̵h̸i̶n̶g̷ ̵h̴a̷p̷p̴e̸n̸s̶ ̵t̶o̵ ̷h̷i̶m̵!̵”̵ ̶M̸r̶.̷ ̷i̶e̵r̸o̸ ̵b̸e̵g̷s̷.̴_

_ ̶ ̸ _

___̴T̶h̷e̴ ̵h̵e̷a̸d̶ ̴‘̶C̵r̷o̸w̵ ̶f̷l̶i̸p̷p̶e̴d̷ ̷t̵h̶r̴o̵u̵g̷h̵ ̸t̴h̶e̶ ̶f̴i̶l̴e̷ ̵a̸b̶s̸e̶n̶t̵m̷i̶n̴d̶e̴d̵l̶y̷,̷ ̴“̴T̵h̷e̶n̶ ̸l̶e̸t̷’̴s̷ ̴b̴u̶s̷t̴ ̴o̴u̶t̶ ̷t̵h̸e̸ ̸l̵i̶f̶e̶ ̷s̵u̸p̵p̸o̵r̷t̸,̴ ̶a̵f̷t̴e̵r̸ ̴a̵l̶l̵ ̷w̵e̸ ̶d̵o̸n̶’̸t̴ ̵w̵a̶n̵t̶ ̵o̷u̸r̸ ̵f̵u̶t̷u̷r̸e̸ ̶h̷e̶a̵d̶ ̵i̷n̸ ̴b̴o̶m̸b̶ ̸t̶e̵c̵h̴n̸o̴l̴o̵g̵y̷ ̷t̸o̵ ̷d̴i̶e̸ ̴o̴n̸ ̶t̸h̷e̷ ̴j̶o̴b̷,̵”̶ ̷t̵h̴e̷y̷ ̸q̸u̷i̴p̷p̷e̴d̴.̴_

_ ̴ _

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

 

**_Mr. Iero’s stomach dropped_ ** _. _

_ Poison’s stomach dropped. _

 

_ █̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

 

_ “̵W̶h̴a̷t̸?̷”̴ ̴G̷h̵o̷u̸l̸ ̵g̶a̵p̶e̷d̵ ̷i̵n̵ ̷d̵i̶s̴b̷e̵l̴i̸e̶f̶.̴ ̵T̴h̴i̵s̶ ̷c̶o̷u̸l̸d̸n̶’̷t̸ ̸b̷e̵ ̸h̴a̷p̷p̸e̵n̷i̵n̸g̵ ̵t̵o̵ ̵h̴i̵m̶.̸ ̶ _

_ ̴ ̶ _

_ ̷T̵h̸e̸ ̴h̶e̴a̷d̶ ̸‘̴C̵r̵o̷w̸ ̵t̴u̷r̶n̵e̵d̸ ̸t̷o̶ ̸M̶r̵.̶ ̷I̸e̷r̶o̶ ̵a̸n̵d̶ ̴s̷m̴i̶r̶k̸e̷d̷,̷ ̵“̸T̴h̵a̶t̸’̴s̸ ̷r̶i̸g̶h̷t̸,̷ ̷w̷e̸’̵l̷l̶ ̵s̶u̵c̴k̶ ̶y̴o̷u̶r̴ ̷s̷o̷u̴l̷ ̴o̷u̷t̴ ̵w̷i̵t̶h̷ ̶d̵r̴u̵g̴s̶ ̸a̸n̶d̸ ̷t̷o̸r̵t̷u̶r̵e̸ ̷u̵n̶t̸i̴l̸ ̷y̷o̴u̷ ̴c̶a̷n̶’̴ ̴t̴a̶k̶e̶ ̶i̷t̴ ̵a̷n̶y̵m̴o̴r̶e̷ ̸a̷n̵d̵ ̴t̸h̸e̸n̵ ̷y̷o̷u̸’̴l̶l̴ ̶b̷e̸ ̵o̴u̷r̸ ̶p̸e̴r̶f̸e̷c̷t̷ ̴l̸i̷t̴t̶l̸e̵ ̵B̵e̵t̸t̸e̵r̴ ̸L̴i̶v̴i̵n̸g̸ ̶r̶e̴f̶o̸r̸m̵e̴d̸ ̸c̶i̶t̴i̸z̴e̴n̵.̵ ̵T̵h̴e̷n̶ ̶b̵e̷f̸o̸r̴e̸ ̶y̶o̸u̷ ̸k̷n̶o̷w̸ ̵i̵t̸ ̸L̵o̸v̷e̵r̸ ̷B̴o̸y̵ ̷w̸i̴l̶l̸ ̴b̸e̶ ̷n̸o̶t̵h̷i̸n̷g̵ ̶b̵u̴t̴ ̸a̷ ̶m̶a̵n̷g̸y̴ ̵p̶i̵l̸e̶ ̶o̷f̶ ̷f̶l̵e̸s̴h̸ ̷t̷h̸a̴t̵ ̸y̷o̷u̶’̸l̸l̷ ̸b̵e̷ ̸s̷e̵n̶t̶ ̶i̸n̵ ̷t̵o̷ ̴r̵e̸f̶o̷r̵m̴,̶”̷ ̵ _

_ ̵ ̵ _

_ ̵“̷I̶ ̷c̷a̷l̸l̵ ̶b̵u̶l̸l̸s̴h̵i̸t̵,̷”̴ ̴M̶r̷.̴ ̷I̶e̵r̶o̶ ̴s̷n̷a̴p̶p̸e̸d̷.̴ _

_ ̴ ̸ _

_ ̵“̸O̶h̷ ̵r̶e̴a̵l̷l̴y̸,̵ ̸M̵r̶.̴ ̸I̸e̷r̶o̵?̷ ̸B̶e̵c̷a̶u̴s̴e̵ ̸y̷o̷u̷r̷ ̷f̶i̴l̸e̶ ̸s̷a̴y̴s̴ ̸t̸h̶a̵t̶ ̴y̷o̶u̸ ̸h̸a̴v̸e̸ ̶q̸u̴i̶t̷e̴ ̶a̴ ̵b̵i̶t̵ ̴o̶f̸ ̶t̴a̷t̷t̴o̴o̶s̶,̴ ̵a̵n̵d̸ ̶t̵h̷a̸t̵’̸s̷ ̵w̶h̵y̸ ̵w̵e̸’̶v̸e̶ ̷b̶r̴o̸u̵g̷h̴t̴ ̶y̴o̷u̶ ̵h̷e̴r̴e̸,̸”̵ ̸T̶h̷e̴ ̸h̵e̷a̸d̴ ̶‘̴C̷r̸o̴w̴ ̸s̸a̵i̷d̷ ̷w̸h̵i̸l̵e̸ ̴s̴l̴i̴d̵i̸n̸g̴ ̴t̷h̷r̷e̴e̸ ̴I̸V̷ ̸n̶e̸e̷d̵l̷e̷s̴ ̶i̸n̵t̵o̴ ̷M̴r̴ ̴I̸e̴r̵o̵’̵s̴ ̴a̶r̸m̵.̶ _

_ _

_ ̶“̵I̸ ̷t̶h̷o̶u̴g̴h̶t̷ ̷y̵o̸u̶ ̷b̵r̴o̸u̴g̴h̵t̴ ̷m̴e̴ ̶h̷e̸r̶e̵ ̸b̸e̶c̶a̸u̸s̷e̷ ̶y̸o̷u̶ ̶h̶a̴d̸ ̴s̸o̸m̴e̷ ̴u̷n̵r̸e̷s̸o̸l̷v̷e̵d̷ ̴k̴i̸n̷k̸ ̸s̶h̵i̸t̵ ̷t̷h̴a̷t̸ ̷y̶o̷u̸’̸r̷e̸ ̶t̴a̶k̵i̷n̴g̴ ̵i̸t̴ ̸o̴u̶t̵ ̴o̷n̶ ̷m̵e̸,̴”̸ ̷M̸r̷.̸ ̵I̸e̸r̸o̶ ̴p̶u̸z̸z̷l̷e̸d̵.̸ ̵T̴h̵a̶t̸ ̶m̶a̴d̵e̶ ̵e̵v̵e̷r̴y̶o̵n̵e̶ ̸g̵o̵ ̶d̵e̸a̶d̸ ̴s̸i̸l̶e̵n̵t̶.̶ ̸I̸t̵ ̷w̸a̸s̷ ̸s̷o̵ ̷s̴i̵l̶e̶n̵t̵ ̵t̴h̷a̵t̴ ̴P̸o̶i̸s̷o̸n̷ ̸t̶h̸o̵u̸g̸h̷t̸ ̶m̸a̷y̵b̶e̴ ̶t̷h̷e̵ ̷a̶u̷d̷i̶o̶ ̷c̴u̴t̷ ̵o̵u̵t̸.̸ _

_ ̶ ̴ _

_ ̷T̶h̵e̴ ̵h̶e̴a̷d̴ ̷‘̵C̸r̶o̵w̷ ̵s̶h̷a̶t̴t̴e̶r̸e̸d̸ ̴t̶h̵e̴ ̷s̶i̶l̸e̵n̵c̵e̴ ̵w̷i̵t̵h̶ ̸t̶h̸e̶ ̸s̶o̴u̷n̵d̶ ̷o̴f̸ ̵h̸i̸s̷ ̷g̴r̷o̷w̶l̸y̴ ̴t̵h̶r̴e̸a̶t̴,̵ ̶“̴N̷o̴.̸ ̵W̵e̸ ̵b̸r̶o̷u̸g̸h̵t̴ ̶y̵o̶u̸ ̵h̴e̷r̵e̴ ̴b̶e̴c̸a̸u̵s̸e̷ ̸w̴e̸ ̴c̶a̶n̷’̷t̶ ̴h̶a̷v̶e̷ ̸a̴ ̵h̷e̶a̵d̵ ̴e̶x̸t̷e̶r̸m̷i̴n̸a̸t̸o̸r̵ ̶w̷i̸t̵h̶ ̷t̴a̶t̸t̸o̸o̸s̷ ̴a̴n̶d̴ ̶g̵r̶e̴a̴s̴y̶ ̷h̷a̸i̴r̶!̸”̸ ̴t̸h̷e̷ ̴h̸e̸a̵d̷ ̸e̷x̵t̵e̶r̵m̷i̷n̶a̶t̷o̷r̸ ̵r̷o̵a̵r̸e̴d̶ ̵t̷h̶e̶n̸ ̴r̶e̸a̶c̷h̷e̵d̵ ̴f̵o̴r̸ ̶a̴ ̴s̶c̸a̴b̷b̴a̵r̵d̵ ̸f̵r̷o̴m̴ ̷t̵h̷e̴ ̷t̸a̵b̸l̸e̷ ̷a̴n̶d̷ ̴l̴u̷n̷g̷e̷d̶ ̵f̴o̸r̴ ̶M̷r̴.̴ ̴I̴e̷r̵o̸'̵s̸ ̵l̵e̸f̸t̷ ̴a̶r̸m̴.̵ _

 

 

_ ̴ _ _ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ _

_ _

_ ̴̨̨̛̻̲̟̪̞͉̹̼̗͙̖̈̔̆̉͆̑̒́͋̔̐̕͠͝█̸̧̡̨̠̱̣͔̘̝̜̦͓̬̻̟̮̭̰̙̞̪̳̮͍̀̌̒̓̋̓́͌͆̿͗́̃̌͗̌͋̇̎̿̔̆̊͘̚͜͠͠͝█̴̧̡̛͕͕̘̗̭̫̟̺͍͓̬̪̠̬̥̯̩̟̭͖̲̯̈́͌̍͋̑̓̀̀͋͛̔̈́̎͋̐͂̀̀̏͘͜͜͝ͅ█̴̨̨̛̺͔̟̫̮̱̖͈̯̙͉͔̰̹̍̍͆̀̌̀̌͝█̵̢̣̫͖̝̰̦̹̮̺͖̝̞̙̖̞̟͙͍͇̜͔͒͛͐̄̋̀̓͌̿̃̀͊̾̌̿̃͘̚͜͝█̵̡̺̲̝̙̗̝͉̯̯͚̚̚█̶͉̂̍̈͒█̷̨̢̛̞̲̳͚͓̝̲̪͙̊͛̿̈́͐̓̄͌̾́̍͗́̅̐̾̃̎͗̐͘͘͘͠█̶̧̨̢̛͓̘͍̻̯̦̲̥̞̠̩̬̦͗͒̌͒̈́̓͋̽͛́̋̌̐̐̃̿͒̑̋͋̉̿͌̉̐͠͝█̷̛̝̦̓̏͗́̀͂͋͌͛͑́̽͐͊̾̈́̈́̽͌̏̾̚͝͝͝█̸̨̧̢̪̟̺̺̺̤̮͉̭̫͕͙̥̯̬̦̏͗͊͋̑͐̊͒̍͒͋͘̚͜͠█̵̡̗͖͍̥̣̐͛̾̾͋̈͌͒͒̄̂̇̈́̚͝█̴̢̨̡̳̪̦̞̞̞̜̱͙̦͙͙̫͓̟͍͍̳̪͈͎̙͕͎̈́̎̅̈́͜͜█̴̡̢̼̰͔̝̻͇̫̘͓̪̤̰̫̆̇̓̉͐̎͝͝͝█̶̧̣̖̿̿̏̊̎̅͊͊̚͝█̸̡̢̧̛͈̻̝̰̙̮͖͓̏̀͑̈́̑̅̽͋̇̓̑͗͛̈̾͆͒͒̎̇̋̓͊͛̒͗̕͜█̶̞̘̣͕̹̞͈͓̲̖͕̙͍̰͓͕̼̀́͗͒̒̄̆̇͋̈͒̉̏̄͗͂͐͗͒̇͑̕̚̕͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅ█̵̢͉͇̰̱͈̯̏̆̔̆͑͐̇͛̈́̈͆̓̍͘̚ͅ█̴̧̨̨̗̠̦͖͉̹͍̫̘̣̦̠̦̞̞̫̜̤̪͚̠̤̈͛̄͜͝ͅ█̸̲̹̏͌͐͊̈́̽̊͛̇̎̄͒̏̐́̈́͗͌̽̀̽█̵̡̡̢̛̱͉͙̝̦̻̱̤̜͙͉̼͉̭̦͚̪̭̘͍͉̪̟͍̒̈͆͐̈͑̄͜͜͠█̶̛͙̤͇̲̾̌́͋̐̆͑̿̔̑̀̋̐̉̋̕͘͝͠█̶̛̛͍̬̥̯̼̼͇͎͇̰̬̬͎̳͕̫͙̙͆͂̍̋̓̓̀͛̑̉͑̈́̚̚͜█̷̢͇̱͎͉̣͓̹͉̮͉̹̫͓͌̃̈́̿͂̂̔̿̓̍̐̊̏̓̇̍͊͐̍̾̕̕͠͠͠͝█̴͔̼̗̦̟̻̟̥̗̝͍̹̺̪͙̦̞̦͚̱̼̪̽̈̾̽́͆̆́́̂͘͝█̵̨̧̰͖̯͍̟̙̰͍̟̹̯͕̙̙̫̬̖̪̮͍͓̯̪̬̩̲̐͌̏͑̄̔͋̃̉͋̀̑͗͑̅̽̈́̍͗̏̐̉͑̈́̌̐͒͜͝͠█̸̡̨̻̳͇̮͖̹̮̮̝͓̩̺̜͉͓̫̩̙̻̝͍̥̆͘͜͝ͅ█̶̡̛͇̺̣͙̭̯̲͇͕̺͓͓͕̘̘͕͔͗̍̓̓̐̇͒͋̈́͐͑̃͋̎̀͆̄̉̀̿̌̚̚̚̕͠ͅ█̶̨̨͈͉̫̲͙͕̦̮̻͓͇́͐͑͐͑͗̈́́́̄̆̽̃̑ͅͅ█̷͉̉͐̀̇͂͊͋̆̀̍̓̎͠█̸̠̼̖̫̮̦̤͔̬̼̞̻̍̆̊̎̒̆͒̔͋͊͌̿̽̆̑ _

_ ̶̨̡̫̣̞͓͓̗̫͇͎̝̫̖̄̍̽̀͒̓͐́͒͋͒̐̇̈́̂̈̄̾̎̇̂͂͘͘͜͝█̵̨̛̞̻̤͓̫̯͉͚̺̲͎̮̺͚͓̣͍͗͑̓̾̇̓̓̿͜͜█̴̛͈̙̲̤̦͒͐̓̿͊̋͊̀̎̓̓́͠͠͝█̵̡͚͎͓̞̳̪͛̋̆̑͑̋̎́̿̈́͛̇͋̌̿͝͝█̶̞̞̜̱̰͔̔̒͐̊̾̅̾̾͘̚█̷̡͇̦̟̓̉̒̀̌̓̀ͅ█̴̢͉͇̪͎͎̖͙͔̙͔͇͓̳̠̠͔̗̣͐͌̇͑̉̐̈́̋̀̓̊̕͜█̶̝̼̜̀̀̄̀̃̍́̋̇̉͋̈́̚̚͝█̷̡͙̝̹̰̘͉̬̘̅͋̆̑͛̃̀̑ͅ█̴̢̡̗̙̪̰̭̤̗̻̺̮̲͎̈́̎̅͑̀͛͛͋͂͗̓̏̃͋̕͘͜█̸̢̢̯̻̰̩̻̙̹͈̣̗̖̪͙̈́̿̽̑̓͆͑́̒̔͗̀̈͊͌̈́̈̚͠͠͝█̵̢̡̣̝̙̯͚̼̙̬̻̘͖͓͈̫͈̞̩͖̭͈͙̠͔̟̩̹̍͑̀̇͗̈́̍͗̈́́͋̅́̿͂͝͝█̸̨̢̨̛̛̛̣̰͙̻̒̀̄͗̆̀͂͆̌͊͐͋̓̈͋́͆̆̽̾͆̓̚͘͝͝ͅ█̴̣͙̺̥̘͉̰͆̐̐̒̂̆̒͛͊̓͊̌͌́̚͝ͅ█̴̙̹͍͉̤̞̰͚̻̘̬̭̳͎̣̘̭͓̉̏̍͛̓̉̎͆͂̌͜█̶̧̯̫̣̩̱̙͓͎̤̰̥̤̮̖̜̬̭͉̙̜͎͖̫̻̝͒̉̋͌̂̿͆̄̔̉̄̊̀̕͝█̴̢̡̤͉͇̩̣̖̰̫̩͙̮͙̞̦̖̼̥͚͕͓̝͉̼͎͙̥́̏̒́̑̀̃̀̔̋̽̅̽̊͐̚̚̚͝ͅ█̵̡̡̡̛̠̩̩̣͍̩̖͙̲͔̝̻͉̟̘͆̿̉͐̋̈͂̍̊̔̂̍̎́͐͝█̷̼͎̬̝̩͉̳̦͕̤̘̱̳̩͙̎̌̂́͐́̉̾̅͌͋̌̌͑͆̎͝█̴̧̨̢̢̬͔̝̥̫̭̙̰̬̼̯̯̥̠̜̱̱͚̠̳̈́̆́͐̕█̶̡̨̛͉͈̦̳̱̗̖̝̊͛̂͑́̏̽͋̀͛̇̅͛͛̿͛̽̒͑̂̏͆͆͘͘̚̚█̸̛͚̪͔͎͉̻̭͖͖̬͚̘̗̫͔̩̮̯͓̯̳͓͈̦̖͙̪͙͑̊̄͐̒̈́̿̓̑̿̈́̅̆̀̎̉̑̓͑͘̕̕͘͠͝█̴̲̖͍̙͙̹͂̿̉͂̍̅̒̌̈̈́͘͝͠͠█̴͎̹͇͔͍͔̭̭̞̼̻͂͛͐̀̄̈̀̅́̒͆̒̃͊̂̉̃̂̆̌͗̈̋█̶̬̦̪̥͉̜͆̋̓͑̀̔̃̿̀̓̂͛̏̆̒̏̌̄͑̽̈́͌͘͜͝͠█̵̢̛͔͇̺̳͈̺̠͎̰̗͔̞̹̤̙̤͉̞̔̎̾͆̈́̆̄̊͋́̈̿͌͂̓̇̓́̈̔͜͜͜͠ͅͅ█̶̡͙̜̦̺͖̖͖̯̭͎͖̫̻͙̰͖̲̮̜͊̍█̷̢̛̛̭̬̠̞̙̐̇̀́́͗̐̂̃̏̍̐̌̃̐̔̒͒́̔͘͜͠█̶̧̡̛̛̦̮̫͔͖͆̀̋̾͗̀̓͊̏̈̀̿̓̍̽͋̋̈́̏͂̽͛̕̕͝͝█̸̢̛̛̥̹̝͕͕̳̜̘̳͚͎͔̘͉̙͎͊̒̉̀̈̒̊̎̀̃̑̅ͅ█̴̢̡̡̘̖̗̱͔̟͖̣̖̗̫̩͚̩̭̘͕͙̉͂̅͊͋͐̂̇̀̈́̀̀̕͜͝͝͠ͅ _

_ ̵̨̩̠͕̝͈͖̞͙̹̳͕̮̺̽͌̆̈́́̾͘͘͠ͅ█̸̡̛̯̦̪̭̹̺̳̿͐̃̿̿̾͊́̃̉̒́͒̈͑̑̑̑̂͘̕͝͝█̸̡̢͙̰͍͎̹͈̠̬̫́̍█̵̡̡̡̨̖̦̖͚͔͖̺̮͒̾͐̉̆̾͘ͅ█̴̦͍̤̣̜̦͆̓̿̽͂̔͂́̒̇͑͌͛̓̓̂̃́̕͘͠█̵͉̲̜̮͓̈́͗̈́̆͂̅̎̂͆̽̂̿̈̈́̀̓̃̏̓̚█̶̺̖̭̪̌̓͌̇̔̈́͠͝█̷̭̩̭̮͎̣̦͉͔͇͖͓̠̘͔̆̓̋̔̈͆͂̊̀̏͊͌̈́̎̉͗́̕̚̚͜͝ͅ█̵̨̟͙͈̲̱̩̪̹̲̮̣̪̰͙͈̠̣̓̓̈̋̿█̸̢̠̦͚͖̣̥̓̈́̊̅̇̿█̵̡̧̮̬̝͉̯̺̙̝̻̖̗̪̱͕̙̪̳͙̝̣̦̲̖͇̟͋͌͒̀͒̅̄̈̓͗̀̋̒̎̔͂̏͘͜͠ͅ█̷̨̡̢̢̡̛̪̠̜̹͎̫̯͙͈̜͚̮̻̩̠̳͕̘̲̯͍̼̗͋̌̋͐̔̾̒̉̑̈̂̀͋̎̚͝ͅ█̴̨͓͕̤͖̥̦̼͚̼͖͚̏̒̎̔́͆̀̂́͛͐̅̑̒͋͑̿̋͒͆͗͜͠͠͠͠█̵̧̡̦̱͚͖̝͖͍͎̙̪͆̈͒̈́̓̾̏͑̋̾͋̈́͐͐͑̾͌̄͆͐̇͘̚█̵̨̡͖̲͇̲͉̹̲̲͓̖͇͕͈̪̲̹͇̭̤̻̰͎̫̤̩͗̄͜█̵̼͆́̏̂͌̒̿̀̔̔̂͐͝͝█̶̢̢̡̛̛̦̣̤̱̰̖̤͕̤͓͓̹̌̐̈̂̏̃̂̀̿͆͊̽̽̈͊͐́́͊͑͘͘͘͝█̶̢̡̺̘͚̠͍̗̦̗̖̮̺̘̜̝̖͈͖̣̅̓̏̽̏̾̄͊͜█̴̡̗̘͙̣͉̫̝̹̖̓̔͐̉̔́̄̍͂͘͘͠█̵̧̡̦̖͙̤͙̞̦̞̗̟̰̝̮͇̦͎͙̱̰̻̪̈́̇͛̈́͑̆̅͊̈͝͝͝█̶̧̛̝̳̬̥̻͈̗̀̐̅͐̅̍́̏͑̈́̎͐̓̂̑̇█̷̛̪͉͖͉̮̖̙̣̮̦̣̩́̎̔̈̏̄̂̾̅̓̈́̐͆̏͝█̵̧̙̗͎̻̭̤̬̬̗̻̖͖͒͜█̶̛͍̐̉̌̉̌̽͋́̄̉̆̂͘͝͝█̵͓̦̓̄̃͋̽̋̉̚̕͝͝█̴̧̡̛͉͍̝̼̞̼͙̙̱͚̳̼̻̘̮̳̝̲͚̣͈͔͓̜̫̀̎̐̀͌̑̃̈́͂͊͊̂̿̀̿̽͒͑̉̕͝͝█̷̡̬̻̙̼̖̼̞̭̈́͂̆̑̓͊͒̓̐͑̽͗͜͜█̶̨̲͚̺̥̮͙̤̯̬̩͐́̈́̀̔̍̆̚͜͜ͅ█̷̤̲̝͓͈̻͇̹̩̤͎̩̟͌̏̅̈̓͛́̄͌̒͂͒̿̒̓̽̉͠█̷̛̹̘͈̠͇̈́̎̊̊̄̀̀̈͑̏͗̎̊̾͆͂̐̒͒̚̚͝͠ͅ█̸̧̘͔̓̋̌̈́ _

_ _

_ ̴̱͉̽̂̈̓̍̉̌̓̚̕█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̴ _

_ ̴ _ ” _ GHOUL!” Poison shrieked as he watched the ‘Crow start to cut the skin off of Ghoul’s very arm. He felt another IV slip into the vein on his neck. He Felt like he was being invaded with chemicals and pills. He felt overwhelmed. Tears were pouring down his face and he wanted to just give up _ _. _

 

_ "̸E̸x̷t̴e̶r̶m̵i̷n̶a̴t̷o̵r̶ ̴W̶a̷y̶ ̸o̸r̸d̸e̵r̸e̶d̶ ̷m̴e̷ ̴t̶o̸ ̶i̶n̴f̸o̷r̷m̴ ̷y̴o̷u̵ ̸t̷o̴ ̸k̷e̴e̸p̸ ̷h̸i̸s̶ ̷h̴a̶i̷r̴ ̴a̸ ̵l̶i̵t̷t̶l̸e̷ ̷l̴o̶n̸g̸e̷r̵,̶ ̸h̴e̷ ̵l̵i̸k̴e̸s̴ ̴t̵o̴ ̴b̵e̶ ̴a̵b̵l̸e̶ ̴t̶o̴ ̵d̸r̶a̶g̷ ̶h̵i̷m̸ ̵d̶o̸w̵n̶ ̷t̷h̸e̴ ̶h̵a̶l̸l̷s̸ ̴b̸y̷ ̸i̷t̸,̸"̶ ̵a̴ ̶y̴o̸u̶n̶g̸e̸r̸ ̵'̴C̵r̷o̶w̷ ̶s̴n̷i̸g̴g̵e̴r̴s̸.̸ _

_ ̷ _

_ ̴"̴O̸k̶a̸y̴,̶"̶ ̶t̵h̶e̴ ̴h̴e̸a̵d̴ ̵'̸C̵r̵o̸w̶ ̸s̵m̶i̷r̶k̸s̶ ̸a̴s̸ ̶t̸h̷e̶y̵ ̵e̴y̴e̵d̷ ̶F̴u̵n̴ ̷G̵h̶o̷u̷l̵ ̵l̶i̵k̷e̶ ̷a̸ ̴p̵i̸e̶c̷e̸ ̸o̶f̴ ̴m̵e̶a̶t̸ ̸r̴e̸a̷d̸y̵ ̴t̷o̵ ̶c̶a̸r̴v̶e̸ ̶a̸s̸ ̷t̵h̶e̴y̵ ̴p̵l̵e̵a̵s̷e̸d̵.̶ _

_ ̴ _

 

 

 

_ ̷a̷s̴█̵̲̹̱̤͐█̶̨̨̨̢̤̼̦͈͕͔͙̥̦̪͖͓͈̝̝̖̰̗̱̻̪̪͍̓͊͆̓̀̄̂͋̅̾̈́̄̋̅͗͗͗̿̊̈̕͠͠͠█̴̢̡̳̠̯̘͙͉͚̪̠̟̻̖̦̲̟̟͙̙̀̃̃̄͋̂̊̽̆͑͑̏̃̍͒̐͂̿̂̈́̿̆͘͠͝͝͝ͅ█̷̡̨̢̧͓͈̼̝̦̘̘̝̖̰͙͎̠̪͓̜̯̦̖͈͂̈́̌͛̆̑̋̀̈́̕̚͜͝ͅͅ█̷̛̝͚͚̤̤̙̰͍̭͗̈́̆̅̇̑̇̆͑͐̄̈̀̉̒͊̃̅̚█̵̢̡̛͙̻̱̬͙̹͕̞̙̈̑͗̆͑͒̾͆̈́͜ͅ█̴̨̡̨̨͚͉̪̣͙̆̄͊̉̀̇̂̅͆̿͋͐͑̂̊̿̏̕͠͝█̵̢̧̩̘̱̭͔̦̟͎̯͇̫͖̹̺̣̹̻̙̑̌͊̏́̊̄̒̒͗͐̽̆̔͑̍̀̽̏̾͠█̴̨̨̛̝̻͚̫̳̲͇̲̮͐́̓́̈̓̑̃̓̇̄̎͘͜͠͝█̴̧̡̢̛̛͓̪̺̯̪̖̟͇̟̟̼͉̞̰̗̺̓̈̅̀̐̅̈́̊̈́̊͊͐̒̀̆͊̌̀̿█̸̨̡̨̪̱͚̩̳͔̼͓̞̩̹͍̘̖͂̆̀̈́̈́͛̂̔̍͂̕͜█̷̢̡̱̯͇͇̳̹̻͙̱̱̹͇̦̭͇̜͔̗͈̜̣̻̬̫̫͙̤̿̑̔͆̅͛͆̈͋̂͛̋̇̊̅̽̿̈͑͋͋͊̔̏͛͘͠█̸̼̲̮͚͙͙̤͑̈͆̂̅̀̿̉̅̍̈́̏̈́̃̏̾̕̕█̷̨̘̟͙͎͇̟̳͔̄̑̌͛̈̾̍̈̅́̓̃͛̋̌̍̈́̽̕̚█̸̧̧̘̤͉̫͇̱̱̘̠͍͕̫̰̳͍̝͔̹̭̹͍͇̯̘̦́̀͂͋̔̈́͊̀̓̂͐͋̆͂͛́͆́̾̃̎̍̀͊͘͜█̸̡̨̫͇͈̮͙̬͖̮͍̦͙̳̗̼̻͎̺̣̗͋̃͋̿̎̈̋͆̀̊̿͒̉̐͌̄͛͂̈̀͗͋́̌͊̈́̚͜͠͝ͅ█̵̡̫̖͓̫̙̣̠̘̰̭̞̲͇̒̒̓͗̌̓̿̊́͐́̍͐̊͒̍̍͒̂̃͘̕͜͝͝█̷̖͇̮͇͉̠̫̬̗̒́͌̀͆█̴̢̢̨̧̤͍̻̜̠̤̘͙̼͇̘͍̱̼̖̤̮̩͎͍͎̣̏̐͒̄̂͛̌͒̆͝█̶̢̞̖̜̯̜͙̙͙̼̖̠͚̻̲̣̥̫͇̗͈̤͕̻͔̐͛̈́͑̐̏͐͊͝█̸̛̭̰̳̩̭̜͚̬̮̼̯̠̥̣͖͈̥̺̲̣͉̖̤͓̫̼̹̦͓̀́́̂̍̂̄̍̇̌̏̍͆͌̐̑͋̕͘͝█̷͎̥͚͕͈́̅̉̎̏̀͂͌̃̎̅̅̓͛͛͌͒͗̎̎̿̔̽̒̾̽͌̐̕█̶̧̣̳͎̝͚̹̦͍̙̰̑̃͋̕█̸̤͓̗͎͙͓̜̬̬̠͕͍̪̼̟̭͐█̷̢̢̛̟̳̙̦̣̼͎̳̲̙̭̞̫̯̖͙͎̮̘̲̦̯͉̱̣̯̘̄̔͋̈́͛͌̈́͐̓͆͘█̵̨̟̟̥̻̲̱̞͇͖̖̊͒̈́̔́̂͛̀́̀̕͠█̵̘̉͐█̸̲̠̱̜͇̥̼̄̅̋̎̀͑̓̎̔́͐͗̂́͑̓̒̆̇̈́̂͠͝█̷̛̭̟̣̰̒͂̈́̿̈́̔͌̽̈́̐͐̂͊́̐̅̔̌̑́̿̿͒͘͘͜͠͠█̶̧̧̛̖͎̭͙̭̰̖͇̩̙͙̮̓̄̅̉̈́́͋ͅͅͅ _

_ _

_ ̴̨̨̛̻̲̟̪̞͉̹̼̗͙̖̈̔̆̉͆̑̒́͋̔̐̕͠͝█̸̧̡̨̠̱̣͔̘̝̜̦͓̬̻̟̮̭̰̙̞̪̳̮͍̀̌̒̓̋̓́͌͆̿͗́̃̌͗̌͋̇̎̿̔̆̊͘̚͜͠͠͝█̴̧̡̛͕͕̘̗̭̫̟̺͍͓̬̪̠̬̥̯̩̟̭͖̲̯̈́͌̍͋̑̓̀̀͋͛̔̈́̎͋̐͂̀̀̏͘͜͜͝ͅ█̴̨̨̛̺͔̟̫̮̱̖͈̯̙͉͔̰̹̍̍͆̀̌̀̌͝█̵̢̣̫͖̝̰̦̹̮̺͖̝̞̙̖̞̟͙͍͇̜͔͒͛͐̄̋̀̓͌̿̃̀͊̾̌̿̃͘̚͜͝█̵̡̺̲̝̙̗̝͉̯̯͚̚̚█̶͉̂̍̈͒█̷̨̢̛̞̲̳͚͓̝̲̪͙̊͛̿̈́͐̓̄͌̾́̍͗́̅̐̾̃̎͗̐͘͘͘͠█̶̧̨̢̛͓̘͍̻̯̦̲̥̞̠̩̬̦͗͒̌͒̈́̓͋̽͛́̋̌̐̐̃̿͒̑̋͋̉̿͌̉̐͠͝█̷̛̝̦̓̏͗́̀͂͋͌͛͑́̽͐͊̾̈́̈́̽͌̏̾̚͝͝͝█̸̨̧̢̪̟̺̺̺̤̮͉̭̫͕͙̥̯̬̦̏͗͊͋̑͐̊͒̍͒͋͘̚͜͠█̵̡̗͖͍̥̣̐͛̾̾͋̈͌͒͒̄̂̇̈́̚͝█̴̢̨̡̳̪̦̞̞̞̜̱͙̦͙͙̫͓̟͍͍̳̪͈͎̙͕͎̈́̎̅̈́͜͜█̴̡̢̼̰͔̝̻͇̫̘͓̪̤̰̫̆̇̓̉͐̎͝͝͝█̶̧̣̖̿̿̏̊̎̅͊͊̚͝█̸̡̢̧̛͈̻̝̰̙̮͖͓̏̀͑̈́̑̅̽͋̇̓̑͗͛̈̾͆͒͒̎̇̋̓͊͛̒͗̕͜█̶̞̘̣͕̹̞͈͓̲̖͕̙͍̰͓͕̼̀́͗͒̒̄̆̇͋̈͒̉̏̄͗͂͐͗͒̇͑̕̚̕͝͠͠͝͝ͅͅ█̵̢͉͇̰̱͈̯̏̆̔̆͑͐̇͛̈́̈͆̓̍͘̚ͅ█̴̧̨̨̗̠̦͖͉̹͍̫̘̣̦̠̦̞̞̫̜̤̪͚̠̤̈͛̄͜͝ͅ█̸̲̹̏͌͐͊̈́̽̊͛̇̎̄͒̏̐́̈́͗͌̽̀̽█̵̡̡̢̛̱͉͙̝̦̻̱̤̜͙͉̼͉̭̦͚̪̭̘͍͉̪̟͍̒̈͆͐̈͑̄͜͜͠█̶̛͙̤͇̲̾̌́͋̐̆͑̿̔̑̀̋̐̉̋̕͘͝͠█̶̛̛͍̬̥̯̼̼͇͎͇̰̬̬͎̳͕̫͙̙͆͂̍̋̓̓̀͛̑̉͑̈́̚̚͜█̷̢͇̱͎͉̣͓̹͉̮͉̹̫͓͌̃̈́̿͂̂̔̿̓̍̐̊̏̓̇̍͊͐̍̾̕̕͠͠͠͝█̴͔̼̗̦̟̻̟̥̗̝͍̹̺̪͙̦̞̦͚̱̼̪̽̈̾̽́͆̆́́̂͘͝█̵̨̧̰͖̯͍̟̙̰͍̟̹̯͕̙̙̫̬̖̪̮͍͓̯̪̬̩̲̐͌̏͑̄̔͋̃̉͋̀̑͗͑̅̽̈́̍͗̏̐̉͑̈́̌̐͒͜͝͠█̸̡̨̻̳͇̮͖̹̮̮̝͓̩̺̜͉͓̫̩̙̻̝͍̥̆͘͜͝ͅ█̶̡̛͇̺̣͙̭̯̲͇͕̺͓͓͕̘̘͕͔͗̍̓̓̐̇͒͋̈́͐͑̃͋̎̀͆̄̉̀̿̌̚̚̚̕͠ͅ█̶̨̨͈͉̫̲͙͕̦̮̻͓͇́͐͑͐͑͗̈́́́̄̆̽̃̑ͅͅ█̷͉̉͐̀̇͂͊͋̆̀̍̓̎͠█̸̠̼̖̫̮̦̤͔̬̼̞̻̍̆̊̎̒̆͒̔͋͊͌̿̽̆̑ _

_ ̶̨̡̫̣̞͓͓̗̫͇͎̝̫̖̄̍̽̀͒̓͐́͒͋͒̐̇̈́̂̈̄̾̎̇̂͂͘͘͜͝█̵̨̛̞̻̤͓̫̯͉͚̺̲͎̮̺͚͓̣͍͗͑̓̾̇̓̓̿͜͜█̴̛͈̙̲̤̦͒͐̓̿͊̋͊̀̎̓̓́͠͠͝█̵̡͚͎͓̞̳̪͛̋̆̑͑̋̎́̿̈́͛̇͋̌̿͝͝█̶̞̞̜̱̰͔̔̒͐̊̾̅̾̾͘̚█̷̡͇̦̟̓̉̒̀̌̓̀ͅ█̴̢͉͇̪͎͎̖͙͔̙͔͇͓̳̠̠͔̗̣͐͌̇͑̉̐̈́̋̀̓̊̕͜█̶̝̼̜̀̀̄̀̃̍́̋̇̉͋̈́̚̚͝█̷̡͙̝̹̰̘͉̬̘̅͋̆̑͛̃̀̑ͅ█̴̢̡̗̙̪̰̭̤̗̻̺̮̲͎̈́̎̅͑̀͛͛͋͂͗̓̏̃͋̕͘͜█̸̢̢̯̻̰̩̻̙̹͈̣̗̖̪͙̈́̿̽̑̓͆͑́̒̔͗̀̈͊͌̈́̈̚͠͠͝█̵̢̡̣̝̙̯͚̼̙̬̻̘͖͓͈̫͈̞̩͖̭͈͙̠͔̟̩̹̍͑̀̇͗̈́̍͗̈́́͋̅́̿͂͝͝█̸̨̢̨̛̛̛̣̰͙̻̒̀̄͗̆̀͂͆̌͊͐͋̓̈͋́͆̆̽̾͆̓̚͘͝͝ͅ█̴̣͙̺̥̘͉̰͆̐̐̒̂̆̒͛͊̓͊̌͌́̚͝ͅ█̴̙̹͍͉̤̞̰͚̻̘̬̭̳͎̣̘̭͓̉̏̍͛̓̉̎͆͂̌͜█̶̧̯̫̣̩̱̙͓͎̤̰̥̤̮̖̜̬̭͉̙̜͎͖̫̻̝͒̉̋͌̂̿͆̄̔̉̄̊̀̕͝█̴̢̡̤͉͇̩̣̖̰̫̩͙̮͙̞̦̖̼̥͚͕͓̝͉̼͎͙̥́̏̒́̑̀̃̀̔̋̽̅̽̊͐̚̚̚͝ͅ█̵̡̡̡̛̠̩̩̣͍̩̖͙̲͔̝̻͉̟̘͆̿̉͐̋̈͂̍̊̔̂̍̎́͐͝█̷̼͎̬̝̩͉̳̦͕̤̘̱̳̩͙̎̌̂́͐́̉̾̅͌͋̌̌͑͆̎͝█̴̧̨̢̢̬͔̝̥̫̭̙̰̬̼̯̯̥̠̜̱̱͚̠̳̈́̆́͐̕█̶̡̨̛͉͈̦̳̱̗̖̝̊͛̂͑́̏̽͋̀͛̇̅͛͛̿͛̽̒͑̂̏͆͆͘͘̚̚█̸̛͚̪͔͎͉̻̭͖͖̬͚̘̗̫͔̩̮̯͓̯̳͓͈̦̖͙̪͙͑̊̄͐̒̈́̿̓̑̿̈́̅̆̀̎̉̑̓͑͘̕̕͘͠͝█̴̲̖͍̙͙̹͂̿̉͂̍̅̒̌̈̈́͘͝͠͠█̴͎̹͇͔͍͔̭̭̞̼̻͂͛͐̀̄̈̀̅́̒͆̒̃͊̂̉̃̂̆̌͗̈̋█̶̬̦̪̥͉̜͆̋̓͑̀̔̃̿̀̓̂͛̏̆̒̏̌̄͑̽̈́͌͘͜͝͠█̵̢̛͔͇̺̳͈̺̠͎̰̗͔̞̹̤̙̤͉̞̔̎̾͆̈́̆̄̊͋́̈̿͌͂̓̇̓́̈̔͜͜͜͠ͅͅ█̶̡͙̜̦̺͖̖͖̯̭͎͖̫̻͙̰͖̲̮̜͊̍█̷̢̛̛̭̬̠̞̙̐̇̀́́͗̐̂̃̏̍̐̌̃̐̔̒͒́̔͘͜͠█̶̧̡̛̛̦̮̫͔͖͆̀̋̾͗̀̓͊̏̈̀̿̓̍̽͋̋̈́̏͂̽͛̕̕͝͝█̸̢̛̛̥̹̝͕͕̳̜̘̳͚͎͔̘͉̙͎͊̒̉̀̈̒̊̎̀̃̑̅ͅ█̴̢̡̡̘̖̗̱͔̟͖̣̖̗̫̩͚̩̭̘͕͙̉͂̅͊͋͐̂̇̀̈́̀̀̕͜͝͝͠ͅ _

_ ̵̨̩̠͕̝͈͖̞͙̹̳͕̮̺̽͌̆̈́́̾͘͘͠ͅ█̸̡̛̯̦̪̭̹̺̳̿͐̃̿̿̾͊́̃̉̒́͒̈͑̑̑̑̂͘̕͝͝█̸̡̢͙̰͍͎̹͈̠̬̫́̍█̵̡̡̡̨̖̦̖͚͔͖̺̮͒̾͐̉̆̾͘ͅ█̴̦͍̤̣̜̦͆̓̿̽͂̔͂́̒̇͑͌͛̓̓̂̃́̕͘͠█̵͉̲̜̮͓̈́͗̈́̆͂̅̎̂͆̽̂̿̈̈́̀̓̃̏̓̚█̶̺̖̭̪̌̓͌̇̔̈́͠͝█̷̭̩̭̮͎̣̦͉͔͇͖͓̠̘͔̆̓̋̔̈͆͂̊̀̏͊͌̈́̎̉͗́̕̚̚͜͝ͅ█̵̨̟͙͈̲̱̩̪̹̲̮̣̪̰͙͈̠̣̓̓̈̋̿█̸̢̠̦͚͖̣̥̓̈́̊̅̇̿█̵̡̧̮̬̝͉̯̺̙̝̻̖̗̪̱͕̙̪̳͙̝̣̦̲̖͇̟͋͌͒̀͒̅̄̈̓͗̀̋̒̎̔͂̏͘͜͠ͅ█̷̨̡̢̢̡̛̪̠̜̹͎̫̯͙͈̜͚̮̻̩̠̳͕̘̲̯͍̼̗͋̌̋͐̔̾̒̉̑̈̂̀͋̎̚͝ͅ█̴̨͓͕̤͖̥̦̼͚̼͖͚̏̒̎̔́͆̀̂́͛͐̅̑̒͋͑̿̋͒͆͗͜͠͠͠͠█̵̧̡̦̱͚͖̝͖͍͎̙̪͆̈͒̈́̓̾̏͑̋̾͋̈́͐͐͑̾͌̄͆͐̇͘̚█̵̨̡͖̲͇̲͉̹̲̲͓̖͇͕͈̪̲̹͇̭̤̻̰͎̫̤̩͗̄͜█̵̼͆́̏̂͌̒̿̀̔̔̂͐͝͝█̶̢̢̡̛̛̦̣̤̱̰̖̤͕̤͓͓̹̌̐̈̂̏̃̂̀̿͆͊̽̽̈͊͐́́͊͑͘͘͘͝█̶̢̡̺̘͚̠͍̗̦̗̖̮̺̘̜̝̖͈͖̣̅̓̏̽̏̾̄͊͜█̴̡̗̘͙̣͉̫̝̹̖̓̔͐̉̔́̄̍͂͘͘͠█̵̧̡̦̖͙̤͙̞̦̞̗̟̰̝̮͇̦͎͙̱̰̻̪̈́̇͛̈́͑̆̅͊̈͝͝͝█̶̧̛̝̳̬̥̻͈̗̀̐̅͐̅̍́̏͑̈́̎͐̓̂̑̇█̷̛̪͉͖͉̮̖̙̣̮̦̣̩́̎̔̈̏̄̂̾̅̓̈́̐͆̏͝█̵̧̙̗͎̻̭̤̬̬̗̻̖͖͒͜█̶̛͍̐̉̌̉̌̽͋́̄̉̆̂͘͝͝█̵͓̦̓̄̃͋̽̋̉̚̕͝͝█̴̧̡̛͉͍̝̼̞̼͙̙̱͚̳̼̻̘̮̳̝̲͚̣͈͔͓̜̫̀̎̐̀͌̑̃̈́͂͊͊̂̿̀̿̽͒͑̉̕͝͝█̷̡̬̻̙̼̖̼̞̭̈́͂̆̑̓͊͒̓̐͑̽͗͜͜█̶̨̲͚̺̥̮͙̤̯̬̩͐́̈́̀̔̍̆̚͜͜ͅ█̷̤̲̝͓͈̻͇̹̩̤͎̩̟͌̏̅̈̓͛́̄͌̒͂͒̿̒̓̽̉͠█̷̛̹̘͈̠͇̈́̎̊̊̄̀̀̈͑̏͗̎̊̾͆͂̐̒͒̚̚͝͠ͅ█̸̧̘͔̓̋̌̈́ _

_ _

_ ̴̱͉̽̂̈̓̍̉̌̓̚̕█̴̧̞͙̝̻̦̠͈͔̮̖͎̺̻̬͔̻̥̹̖͔̯̇̉̈͑̑̓̑͗̒́́̿̕͝͝█̸̛̛̝͍̲͕̦̼̯̔̑̾̈́͋̈́̏̒̔͆́̆̑̈́̓̂̎̾́̔͐͒͗̆͜͠█̵̭̠̺̦͕̥̝̘͇͇̃͋̆̀̂̈́͑́̒̀̄͘̚█̶̨̢̜͈̲͎̼͈͔̼̦͈͔͔̖͂̽̀̔͆̓̌̈́̕͝█̴̹̦̥̺̜͎̲͋͝͝█̶̡̢̨̗̖̫̙̠͙̦̳͍̦̬̭̱̞̗͍͎͈̗̹͈͕̊̀̒͆͌͆̀̌̏͘̕͜͝͝ͅ█̵̛̛̰͎̳̮̺̱͉̿̈̌̎̓̐͒̌́̚͘ͅ█̴̧̨̡̧̙͙͔̺̖̝̥̹͖̞͔̮̰̊̎̈́̓͋̀̾̈̃̏͑̏̾̽͗̈́͂̈̕̕͠͝͝ͅͅ█̸̡͓̦͙̦̹̦͍̹͔͙͈̤͉̣̦̞̩̩̘̥̻͚̯̍́̀͂͘͜█̸̧̖͎͕͕͈̗̦̎́́͒̂̆̎͘͜͝█̸̬̹͋͊̾̇̒̌́̑̔̆́̓͂͗͐͒̇͛̌̐̚͝█̷̝̝͍̝͈̦̝̫̝̼̝̦̬̌͐̋̍̏̇́̈̾̒̔̈̑̑͑̽̈͆̈̓͘͜͝█̷̧̢͓̺̱͚̝̘̘̩̱̯̤̗̤̟̹̳͉̼͖̜̖̤̺̭̱̪̲̈́̈́̕█̴̶̢̨̛̛̮͈͚͖̬̭͍̦̬̟͖̪̬̦͙̪̫̝͖͓͈͓͇̯̔̆̈́̇̒͋͒̃͗̌̒̉̌͐̑̿̉́̈́͘̚͜͠͝͝ _

_ ̵ _

_ _

_ The video cut to static and all Posion could hear was Mr. Ghoul’s screams of pain. The helmet was pulled off of Poison’s head and all he could see were flashes of black and white blurs. _

 

_ More pills were shoved down his throat as all three IVs were yanked out of him at once. Poison let out a scream as the burning fluids exposed his fresh wounds to ice cold air. Poison’s restraints were unfastened but he was too high to care. His head lawled to the side as Korse lifted him up bridal style and threw him on a gurney. Poison was then handcuffed to the gurney so he couldn’t escape, as if he was concious enough to. _

 

_ Poison knew exactly what that meant. _

 

_ Korse and His Mother wheeled him out of the frosted glass room as tears and screams poured relentlessly from Poison. He couldn’t stop screaming the name of the joy who he just saw getting tortured. And it was like nails on a chalkboard for the better living employees. _

 

_ They swung around the corner and bursted into the medical room. Poison was laid in front of a small flat screen tv that was connected to a metal arm that was attached to the white wall. Poison smelled a distinct stench in the air that he couldn’t describe. _

 

_ It was a gas of some sort, he knew that at least. _

 

_ Then a ‘Crow rushed by and shoved five IVs into Poison’s arm. Poison let out a moan of pain but his eyes were too fixated on the television screen to notice.  _

 

_ There was a black and white cartoon of mousecat giving all these other creatures pills. And when the creatures took the pills they were ‘perfect’. _

 

_ Poison knew this cartoon, he hated this cartoon, but he didn't want to look away. _

 

_ Poison thought he felt a tube get shoved into his throat that snaked pills into him, but he didn’t remember. All he could remember was the streams of different cartoons, twisting sideways into colorless oblivion. _

 

Don’t forget to take your pills.

 

Keep smiling.

 

Children obey your parents.

 

Wives obey your husbands.

 

Husbands obey BL/Ind

  
Everyone obey BL/Ind

 

There is a new trend of teenagers beginning to embark on relationships with members of the same sex. If you see this or feel urges to do such, report to your local Exterminator. Better Living Industries will help re educate you and your comrades on what love really is.

 

There’s too much clutter in the world.

 

Too much color.

 

To much noise.

 

Too many unnecessary emotions.

 

That’s why Better Living has gotten rid of it all.

 

Keep smiling,

 

 

Gerard Way.

 

 

 

 

̶ ̷

̴ ̵

̴ ̵

̵

 

 


	8. Perfect Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my laptop keeps on trying to correct Korse to Horse and honestly... that mental image.

 the internet is being a bitch again so here's a link to a google doc with the chapter in it. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1mzzeFCUbJlTwZjo_A2uXK8_7SoVvQaMQB5bRSB_2QGc/edit?usp=sharing


	9. Not So Perfect Now

# Poison woke up in the middle of the night.

 

That’s what the white digital clock on his nightstand tells him in bright white letters on an almost white grey background.

 

**10:30**

 

Both the bathroom and kitchen doors were wide open, as if to taunt Poison who once again was chained to his bed.

 

This can't be because of night terrors, after all who fucking gasses their kid into unconsciousness unless the kid is a killjoy?

 

Poison heard footsteps so he collapsed back onto his bed and pretended he was asleep. He slowed his breaths and opened his eyes just enough so he could see over the foot of his bed and into the kitchen. There were _His Mother_ and Korse, talking in hushed voices.

 

“He’s been having some outbursts and doubts but don’t worry, once the drugs kick in he’ll be a perfect model citizen to show off to the world,” Korse reported. Poisons stomach twisted.

 

That's why everyone's been acting so weird,so when my pills kick in i'll take this as reality.

  
“And the other one? Mr. Iero?”   
_His Mother_ _pries._

 

And why she was asking about who i saw… She's doing what’s she’s doing to me to Frank… And Mikey, maybe.

  
“He’s not doing so well…”Korse answered which sends a wave of relief over Poison. It would kill him to see Frank turn into a shell just like his brother had.

 

And where the fuck is Ray?

 

“What happened?” _His Mother_ snapped.

  
“He was caught... being deviant,” Korse explained with a   
grimace on his face. This piqued Poison’s interest, of course with his dirty mind he already came up with several things Frank could be caught doing.

 

“Gerard snuck out? He caught on to the location of Mr. Iero already?” _His Mother_ gasped.

 

Yes, when I was locked in a room being filled with gas I decided to find Frank and give him a good time. Geeze, do these Better Living trucks think we’re just a bunch of hopeless horndogs?

  
“No. Mr. Iero was caught being deviant… by himself,” Korse clarified. That information completely obliterated Poison’s last statement.

 

Poison couldn’t help but bite back a laugh at this information, of _course_ that was what Frank was caught doing.

 

You can take the ‘joy out of the desert but you can never take the desert out of the ‘joy

  
_His Mother_ stood their in silence for a few seconds as she tried to process the information. The series of expressions that crossed her face were actually quite amusing, ya know if Poison hadn’t just found out if he doesn’t find some sort of pill antidote then he’ll turn into a Better Living zombie.

 

“Well isn’t that just lovely,” _His Mother_ finally sighed. It was a shock to Poison that she was able to comprehend the concept of sarcasm, given it was one of the things outlawed in Battery City. Or, a more specific wording for the term ‘sarcasm’

 

“You know what they say, boys will be boys. But the real issue came in when I found out why he’s been… doing this,” Korse continued. That made Poison’s heart skip a beat. Here he is, sitting in his bed pretending to be asleep, hearing two of Better Living Industry’s biggest executive discuss what turns Frank on. Of course, Poison ‘needed this information in order to know what they’re planning to do to Frank and estimate his whereabouts’ not because Poison is already planning victory sex in the transam or anything.

 

Totally not because of that or anything.  
  
“Hm?” _His Mother_ pressed.   
  
“He’s having dreams about… the other one. And not the nightmares we had tried to trigger by displaying images of the other one while injecting negative chemicals into his bloodstream,” Korse divulged. See, this information was useful to Poison. He found out that Better Living had been trying to turn the killjoys against each other by injecting negative chemicals into them while showing images of other killjoys. It was just a little bonus that Poison had learned that Ghoul was having dreams about him. And apparently not the kind where Poison turned into a Scarecrow at the end.   
  
“What kind of dreams is he having instead?” _His Mother_ spat, she was obviously repulsed by the discussion topic and wanted to get her information and leave.

 

  
Korse could see this, and it seemed that the information his was withholding her would only make things even more weird. His face twisted into an uncomfortable scowl as he finally clarified what kind of dreams Frank was having.

 

“The kind that makes one change their sheets and take a cold shower in the morning,”

Poison choked on nothing. Never in the world had he thought that he would hear those words leave Korse’s mouth. Ever. Much less him discussing that in layman's terms was just ‘Frank is horny because he’s having wet dreams about his boyfriend’

 

Korse’s and _His Mother’s_ heads snapped to Poison’s room. Poison quickly shut his eyes and slowed his breathing again, trying to fight back the images of Frank… thinking about him…   
  
“Of course,” _His Mother_ responded.   
  
“Well, what are we going to do? Give him a chastity belt?” Korse puzzled.   
  
“No,” _His Mother_ objected. For some reason the idea repulsed her, which only made Poison more curious.   
  
“What, why not?” Korse pressed. He sounded like he was desperate for any way to get Frank to keep it in his pants. Again, this situation was serious, but Poison still couldn’t help but think it was a bit of comedic relief from all his recent trauma.   
  
“These terrorists are dangerous and live very… promiscuous lifestyles. We don’t know what will stop him and what will edge him on. And I don’t want to write out the twelve letter word on his lab report,””   _His Mother_ reasoned.  Poison couldn’t believe his own ears. Is she implying that she’s taken into custody ‘joys who were into that kind of stuff?

 

It was probably the leader from the crew Mindless, any of the songs he wrote were nasty…

  
  
“Well, what else can we do,” Korse retorted.

  
  
“We could… perhaps…” Poison’s eyes widened when he realized that His Mother wasn’t going to finish her sentence and what she was implying.

 

Shitshitshitshitshit. I need to find Frank and warn him. Or better yet get him out of here! Otherwise…

 

Poison shivered at the images that came to mind, images that probably he would be forced to see as a part of his rehabilitation.

 

  
“You’re not thinking of what I think your thinking of,” Korse was catching on too, and clearly horrified by the suggestion.

 

  
“It could be our only choice! What if the other one hears him and that gets him… riled up! Listen, we are dealing with teenage boys here. This might trigger some phenomenon, and I’m willing to stop that at all costs,”” _His Mother_ argued.

 

Wow, the sex ed curriculum here must suck. And not balls apparently because Destroya forbid! Not to mention that they could get a white noise machine or noise canceling walls. After all, that torture chamber must have been full of them for no Battery City civilians to be asking what was going on.

 

  
“Or maybe we’re just paranoid over nothing, give him a higher pill dosage. Those tend to… lower one’s libido,” Korse pointed out. Poison never thought that he would agree with Korse in his life yet here he was. Praying that Korse could convince _His Mother_ out of her other plans.

  
  
“You mean give him the dosage intended for females? Preposterous!” His Mother chastised.   
  
“He’s already been arrested for crossdressing, it won’t be too much of a difference. After all he is what his… community refers to as a femme,” it was clear to Poison that Korse was just grasping at straws at this point. After all, he even used the term ‘femme’ to justify Frank going on… some form of birth control..? Poison perplexed.   
  
His Mother stood there, lips pursed and arms crossed for what felt like ages. It was her call. Poison held his breath. She was the one person keeping Frank from going through a hell of a lot of pain.

 

Finally she broke her own silence by letting out an exasperated sigh “Fine, we’ll give him the female dosage. But if that doesn’t work-“ she blurted.  
  
“I’ll hand him over to you to take care of,” Korse assured. The two walked out the kitchen and into a front door Poison didn’t realize was there. The door slammed shut and a lock click. It left Poison with nothing but him and his one thought.

 

He needed to get him, Frank, and hopefully Mikey out of there. And possibly Ray, if Poison even knew where the heck Ray was. Poison moved until he was sitting on his bed and continued to think. First things first, he had to get out of those cuffs. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to do anything else.

 

Poison moved over to the lamp and took off the white lamp shade. He remembered reading a book where the characters had to do the same thing with cuffs just like his, so they used the heat of a helicopter fire to expand the cuffs and slip them off. Gerard stared at the perfectly white lightbulb, the thought teased him. And the fact that the idea incited danger only made him want to do it more. As if breaking a lightbulb and attempting to burn through the cuffs and not his wrist was some sort of throw back to his desert days.

 

Fuck it

 

Poison grabbed the lamp and smashed the end of the light bulb against the wall. Fire shot out of the glass and covered the wall. Poison jumped back “Destroya! Phoenix Witch!” he exclaimed.

 

The fire caught onto the nightstand and the bed.

 

It was then Poison realized.

 

He fucked up.

 

A part of him wanted to run to the bathroom and get the biggest glass of water he could find and throw it at the monstrosity he created, but another part of him wanted to see what would happen. Maybe the fire would burn a hole in the wall and he could break through. Maybe the fire would destroy the building. Maybe the fire would destroy all of battery city.

 

Poison ignored the fire and took the lamp and drew it over to the chains that fastened him to the bed. Poison watched the fire turn the rusted surface turn orange and then a bright red, and then when he deemed the chain hot enough he grabbed a part that wasn’t headed and jerked the cuff off the chain.

 

The chain feel with a loud _clatter._

 

Poison did the same with the other chain and then was ready to go. His first instinct was to go out the window, but then he remembered.

 

Mikey.

 

Poison ran out of his room that was ablaze and into the jack and jill bathroom. He closed the door behind him (as if wood could stop a fire) and rushed into Mikey’s room. His room was identical to Gerard’s so much that it was almost disorienting to walk in. Except in a corner there was a glass chair where Mikey sat. He was still, eyes wide open, and didn’t seem to be breathing.

 

Poison ran over to his younger brother and grabbed him by the shoulders, “Mikey! We need to get out of here and find Frank!” he rushed. Mikey didn’t move. Just sat there.

 

Gerard shook Mikey again, “Mikey! Come on! _There’s a fire!”_ Gerard rushed.

 

Gerard heard the sound of a circuit board churning with programing and then a thin white strip of paper printed from Mikey’s lips. Poison arched a brow then took the slip from his younger brother’s mouth. On the slip in black letters said the following;

 

**Incident Reported To Exterminators Korse And Meldina. Your audio has been recorded for evidence.**

 

Poison stared at the paper as a confused look twisted onto his face. “What?” he breathed.

 

He looked behind Mikey’s chair and he realized what was happening.

 

The Mikey that he was living with and the Exterminator Way that had dragged Frank down the hallway were two completely different people.

 

For starters, this Mikey was a robot.

 

A long black wire ran from the back of Robot Mikey’s head and ran down the floor and plugged into the wall. It hit Poison like a wall of bricks the moment he saw the black snake crudely curl into the wall.

 

 _“Shit,”_ Poison realized, this droid was going to rat him out to Korse and _His Mother._

 

                            M

                     a E

                                           L

                     n

 

                                           D

                           I

 

The return of his colorful thoughts sent a wave of relief over Poison and he could already smell the blends of spray paint and vinyl with an edge of Power Pup stench. Poison grabbed the droid and slung it over his shoulder. He ran through the bathroom and threw open the door.

 

The fire grew.

 

A lot.

 

In fact, it had covered the entire room and was beginning to spread into the kitchen. Poison threw the droid into the fire and started beating it against the wall, he had to destroy the evidence of him remembering _everything._

 

Or… most things.

 

 

Poison kept on destroying the droid until it felt like a lump of burning metal. He then smashed the droid through the window and threw it into the city that was hundreds of feet below. Poison looked through the empty space that a window used to occupy until the droid disappeared into the hundreds of identical people, cars, and just stuff.

 

All of it was white.

 

Poison shuttered at the nightmare bellow and turned back to the fire that filled his room. Smoke assaulted his throat and nose until he could even taste the fire. He looked at his closet and remembered reading something about how scarecrow uniforms were fireproof. So he lunged from the window and took long strides to his closet.

 

He threw the closet door open and saw ten crisp white scarecrow uniforms all ready to be used. This was also good because Poison now hide a disguise. Poison stripped quickly (a talent he had developed from, well being Poison) and zipped up the Scarecrow uniform.

 

Poison pulled the hood over his head and zipped it up in order to protect himself from the smoke. The inside of the uniform wasn’t what Poison expected, no demon came to suck out his soul or replace him with robot parts. In fact, the inside was just like how it was on the outside, just a little whiter.

 

Poison stumbled out of the closet as he still got used to the coverup. He stumbled through his room until he found the door out and  ran through. Poison regained his balance in the kitchen and got into the living room. He saw the front door and sped towards it. Fire was everywhere and though he couldn’t be burned, he could still feel the heat engulf him like an icy cold burn. In fact, it kind of felt like he was an ice cube in a glass of water.

 

But Poison wasn’t going to waste his time cooking himself alive just because it felt slightly relieving. He sprinted over to the front door and threw it open, revealing a nice quiet peaceful hallway. It was weird. Having all hell break loose in his house but the hall be peaceful. Like a more low key version of going from the desert to Battery City.

 

Battery City

 

               G

                         E

            T

 

 

 

 

      T             

 

h

      E

 

 

 

 

 

            F    

  C              u

            K

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

     O

t          u

 

 

 

 

 

 

 N

          O

W

 

 

Poison slammed the door shut and pressed his back against it. Deep, exasperated breaths, fell from Poison’s chest as his body caught up with al the shit that went down over just a matter of seconds.He unzipped the hood of the scarecrow uniform and pulled it back. Fresh air shot through Poison's nostrils as fresh adrenaline shot through his veins. 

 

His eyes scanned the hallway to see it empty and abandoned. Doors lined each wall, each of them full of innocent killjoys and civilians being forced into rehabilitation. A part of Poison wanted to help everyone escape in a mass jail break. But first he had to find Frank and Mikey, and maybe Ray if he was there. And he would throw open every damn door in that building to do so.

 

Poison heard the fire raging in his bedroom and felt the sparks of spontaneous rebellion surge through him.

 

Or maybe now _was_ the time for a mass jailbreak.

 

Poison threw open the apartment door of the apartment opposite of his.

 

A short man (not Frank short) stumbled out of the apartment. He was in all white (just like any other rehabilitation zombie) and had dull hazel eyes that looked like they used to gleam. Long tattoos twisted up his arms. He couldn’t had been there for too long because his hair was black and obviously hadn’t been washed in months, probably years even.

 

The short man looked familiar to Poison, and a part of him was reminded of Mikey when he looked at him.

 

When the man looked at Poison he let out a gasp, “Gerard?” he breathed.

 

Poison didn’t know why he knew him, but the moment he knew his voice his name was a his lips.

 

“Pete?”

 

 

 

 


	10. Jailbreak Pt 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I changed Nicole Rows name but its because I couldn't think of any other band member's last name that started with the letter I so I got desperate and changed her. Also this time the chapter is a two parter by choice and not by ao3 being glitchy

welp ao3 is being a bitch again and imma impatient bitch so you know the drill;

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-Gft_mY-WsreUejJ3b5gl8xHm0ldqQOTSYGL5C0-RbE/edit?usp=sharing


	11. Jailbreak Pt 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for it being a while school finals and all, and also you’re going to hate how this chapter ends

Poison’s head ached as he drifted back to reality. Everything around him was moving at a hundred miles per hour, except him. He was hanging from his arms being quickly shoved into an elevator. The doors slammed shut and he felt himself stand on his feet. He was beginning his slow return to consciousness.     
  
“Poison? Are you ok-“ Killer King was cut off by Shitty Teen and St Jimmy gasping. Poison could sense King’s jaw dropping as he gaped, “Oh my Phoenix Witch...”   
  
Poison pushed against the metal railing that lined the elevator door as his vision blurred and unblurred. He looked up to see what all the others were freaking out about.    
  
And when he saw who was standing before him it took every inch of will power for him not to collapse all over again.    
  
Long dark hair fell in greasy sweeps across his face, some of his tattoos were gone and in their places were patches of pink flesh,  he was in a white button up shirt that was all shredded and stained with dry blood, his green hazel eyes seemed to be feeling the same emotions Poison were.    
  
“Frank,” Poison breathed before the two joys collapsed into each other’s arms.    
  
Poison tangled his fingers into Frank’s hair as he pushed the shorter man against the wall. Frank’s hands drifted down to Poison’s waist and gripped it like if he let go Poison would evaporate. Poison crashed his lips with Ghoul’s as all the memories of what he had lost came flooding back to him.    
  
Ghoul’s lips were soft and sweet but his mouth was rough and raw. The two were almost animalistic with the way they attacked each other. Poison let out a squeak when Ghoul pinched his ass teasingly. Poison pulled away from Ghoul just to gasp out, “You bitch,” before he kissed the man again.    
  
Ghoul pulled away from Poison abruptly just to smirk, “No,  _ your _ bitch,” he corrected.    
  
Jimmy, Teen, and King were stuck standing there watching the two reunite that, to an outsider, seemed more or less disgusting. King grimaced as he saw the slobber that  dripped from the couple’s lips and slowly fell to the floor. Teen bit back a gag at all the disgusting noises, the smacking, the grunts, all of it may have seemed perfect to Poison and Ghoul but to Teen, she almost wanted to puke. Jimmy couldn’t help but stare in both curiosity and concern at the very obvious situation happening in both the ‘joys nether regions.    
  
Poison ignored the group’s discomfort as Ghoul moved his hips with his hands. Poison grabbed onto the collar of Ghoul’s shirt and pulled him closer as Ghoul started to attack Poison’s neck. Poison felt Ghoul’s ice cold hands slide up from his waist and under his shirt. The icy feeling sent jittery shivers through Poison that made him forget where he was or who he was with.    
  
When it became obvious that Poison and Ghoul were only so close to making a low budget adult film, it was the last straw for Shitty Teen.    
  
Shitty Teen wedges herself between the two and pushed them apart with her tattooed arms, “Listen here, you bitch fuckers, I know you’re horny and miss each other, but please don’t fuck in front of the lesbian,” she sassed.    
  
That tore Poison and Ghoul from their trance of missing each other. Poison’s eyes widened as he stared at Teen in shock. At this point in time things like coming out and gender were obsolete to killjoys. Everyone was an androgynous Gay who might have a small masculine or feminine vibe, and pronouns other than “they” were long gone. so hearing someone actually use a label besides referring to their partner was quite a surprise to everyone for that matter.    
  
Jimmy and King were the first to snap from their stupor. They started clapping and began to let out whoops. Poison and Ghoul decided to join to, after all it was nice for once having the biggest problem in the world being coming out.    
  
“One more empty closet in this joint, eh Poison?” Ghoul joked as he nudged his partner affectionately.    
  
The small amount of contact made Poison’s heart flutter in the same way it did when he and Ghoul first met. “Yeah...” he sighed in a dreamy voice. Poison couldn’t believe this was happening. When he set his room on fire he thought he was just going to end up back in that interrogation room.

 

Or worst.

 

Images of the floor Poison had busted into flashed into his head. The corpse like people, the long IV needles filled with drugs, Ghoul strapped to a table and screaming his head off. And none other than Poison’s mother, his  _ real  _ one, the one he thought died in the helium wars, was the one doing this to him. Poison could feel a pang of guilt in his stomach as he thought about those people that he had left behind.

 

“A-are the other joys okay?” he tried to ask, but his voice was too quiet for anyone to hear him.

 

The building was going to burn to the ground.

 

And in it will be all of the people he grew up idoling. 

 

Poison was torn from his thoughts when the elevator chimed open to the chaos that was going on in the lobby. It was a fucking bloodbath to say the least, ‘joys and ‘crows going against each other, bringing out everything they had. Hundreds of droids seemed to endlessly spill into the building, ready to fight at the side of the ‘joys. The lobby was also full of heartfelt reuniting similar to the one Poison and Ghoul had just had.

 

Fuck Machine was hugging a zone runner Poison recognized to be the notorious Show Pony, or as the desert liked to refer to as the patron saint of glitter and Xanax, and for once Poison saw the two express an emotion other than lust or intoxication. 

 

Members of the city crew known as The Youngbloods were hugging each other and talking, but their leader was nowhere in sight. Instead it was just the three, talking and waiting. The worried look on Dr. Benzedrine’s face was enough to tell Poison that they were trying to distract themselves from the question of Sandman’s current state. 

 

Poison thought back to his brother, Kobra, gun against his head and ready to snap his neck if he had to. Poison shuddered, whatever happened to Sandman would be on his hands. Including his blood.

 

Ghoul was walking around the lobby, searching for Jet Star, but Poison couldn’t bring himself to help in the search. St Jimmy sauntered up to his crewmates, Love Slave, Jesus Of Suburbia, and 80, and a mix of his usual crew leader persona and the emotional weight of being freed from rehabilitation seemed to take over him.

 

Shitty Teen was about to approach Pony when she heard a girl her age cry out, “Lynz?” 

 

Teen turned to the source of the sound and her eyes turned the size of saucers when she saw who was calling her. It was a girl with her hair dyed a multitude of colors, she was wearing a tie dyed shirt with Better Living’s logo on it but the eyes were X-ed out with silver ink. The girl ran to teen and caught her face in her hands and the two kissed passionately. 

 

Ghoul walked up to Poison, “Well, looks like Jet isn’t here, but from what little we’ve seen of him he’s probably out in the desert somewhere,” he explained. Poison nodded his head, Fuck Machine only called the people he remembered, which meant primarily people relating to his crew. Like Shitty Teen’s girlfriend. That means that most of the killjoys there had gone through some level of rehabilitation. 

 

The thought made Poison shiver, how could Better Living capture so many ‘joys at once?

 

Poison shoved aside his worried thoughts, at least he had Ghoul back, and soon everything would return to normal. Sandman would work his charm on Kobra and undo whatever brainwashing Better Living did to him, Jet would be found at the diner or chilling at Dr. Death Defying’s place, and soon Poison would be back in the desert with his family.

 

For once, it seemed that Better Living was going to give him a happy ending.

 

But Poison was wrong.

 

Because Better Living  _ never  _ gave people, especially killjoys, a happy ending.

 

They only gave them a perfect ending.

 

The elevator doors pinged open, which drew Poison’s attention to the chrome doors. But what he saw come out of the elevator made his stomach churn.

 

Mr. Sandman’s bloodstained, unconscious, handcuffed body cradled in Kobra Kid’s arms. Kobra Kid still had his exterminator uniform on and that cold, emotionless look on his face.

 

The Youngbloods instantly ran towards the shorter ‘joy’s body, “Sandman?” Benzedrine squeaked out, he looked on the verge of tears.

 

Exterminator Mikey Way clenched his jaw and spat, “Step away, terrorists. I subdued Mr. Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz The Third so that he can be sent to another facility for more intense care. As will all of you,” he deadpans. His last words send everyone into a terrified frenzy. The once giant blob of joys devides into crews trying to find their families. 

 

Poison grabs onto Ghoul’s hand, “Run!” he yells over the chaos and starts to pull his boyfriend towards the front doors. The moment they reach the door a sea of exterminators and scarecrows spill in.

 

Droids try to help them fight against the sea of white but slowly, one by one, they start to shut down. It started with a blue droid. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she just fell to the ground. A red droid panicked instantly. She grabbed onto the blue droid’s body, “Blue? Blue?  _ Blue?”  _ she repeated, trying to wake up her girlfriend.

 

While she was trying to snap Blue awake, her eyes started to lol into the back of her head then she collapsed. More droids continued to slowly shut down until walking through the lobby was like stepping through a sea of metal. 

 

The sudden flood of exterminators broke Poison’s and Ghoul’s hands apart, no matter how hard Poison tried to keep a hold of Ghoul. Poison’s head spun as he kept on crying out names of the people he loved, as if that would turn back time and make them come back to him.

 

His head felt heavy and all he could see was white. Before he knew it he was pinned to the ground by none other than Korse. Poison was splayed on his stomach as Korse straddled him, his arms locked around his throat. Poison choked and coughed as he fought for air.

 

“I always knew you had a thing for me, Korse,” he finally coughed out. This made Korse punch Poison in the face.

 

And then Poison was back on his feet with handcuffs squeezing his wrists and getting dragged away by Korse. Poison wanted to fight against the exterminator, but it was all happening too fast for him to fight it.

 

Somehow Poison ended up upside down being dangled by the feet. He could feel all his sinuses go to his brain as his head rushed with blood. He tried to look around for his fellow joys, but all he saw were exterminators.

 

Poison tried to swing in rebellion, but it did nothing to stop Korse’s iron grip. He was taken outside where hundreds of Better Living vans were parked. The doors to one of them was open and Poison was shoved into it. Suddenly he turned back upside down as metal clamps were placed on both his ankles, fastening him to the ceiling.

 

He felt nauseous and disoriented, like a bat who had too much to drink. He heard the van’s engine roar to life and the speed it was going at only made Poison reel more. He felt like the world was spinning in circles.

 

The divider between the back of the van and the front of the van slid open revealing a familiar figure in a white lab coat.

 

_ His Mother. _

 

She was filling a syringe with some sort of drug and moved over to Poison.

 

“This is going to hurt. A lot,” she snarled.

 

Before Poison could brace himself the needle plunged into the throbbing vein on his neck and the drug pumped into him. He felt his skin burn and ache as his body was invaded with the fluid whose effects were already being seen.

 

Poison’s vision started to cloud with black splotches as his head started to ache dully. He tried to swing against the restraints some more, but each swing seemed to take twice as much energy as the last. Poison fought the tugs of unconsciousness that seemed to assault him as a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

 

 

_ His Mother  _ pressed onto a voice recorder and reported, “He seems to be more resistant to the drugs than the last time he got them, but signs of unconsciousness are still starting to show,”

 

More black started to decorate Poison’s blurry vision, each word spoken by  _ His Mother  _ seemed to twist and spiral into distortion. He felt like that time he accidentally took hardcore drugs instead of cough medicine thanks to the lableless pill bottles at  _ Tommy Chow Mein’s.  _

 

He felt like he was floating in space, or flying, or maybe just spinning and spinning and spinning.

 

Poison didn’t remember exactly  _ when  _ he was knocked unconscious. It was just out of nowhere all he could see were the black waves of his mind lapping him away from the nightmare that had become his so called happy ending.

 

 


	12. Better Living Conversion Facility

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW this chapter involves conversion therapy. And no I'm not being one of those shitty Straight PeopleTM who enjoy using the suffering of gay people for book plots without being a legit ally (no offense to straight people who are legit good allies and are using their voice as a way to get a word out for the oppression of gay people, I just know of some straight people who are like that). I myself am bisexual and though have never experienced conversion therapy myself, when I first came out to my mom she told me not to tell my dad 'because he might send me to a camp'. Thankfully that didn't happen. I have watched documentaries about it and have done research on it as a method of coping with the oppression of gay people, because I'm the kind of person who stares at a car crash instead of looking away from it. And also this is kind of a way for me to cope with the fact that my state almost passed a bill that would defend conversion therapy instead of protecting it.

~~ Gerard Way.  ~~

 

**Frank Iero.**

 

Mikey Way.

 

~~ Gerard didn’t remember when or how he woke up. He just remembered standing in front of a giant rectangular building that had a giant black smiley face perched on the roof. The smiley face was in between giant white letters that read  **Better Living ☺︎Conversion Facility.** ~~

~~ Gerard didn’t know what the words meant but they made chills trace down his spine. He felt an Exterminator shove him forwards. ~~

~~ “Move!” the bald man barked as Gerard stumbled forwards. His mind was in a painful haze. ~~

 

**Frank was walking down one of those glass tunnel hallways that connect two buildings together, the kind that make you feel very self conscious that just one crack could send you falling to the harsh concrete of the city bellow. A pair of handcuffs bound his wrists together and were attached to a long chain that an exterminator held tightly.**

 

**“Where are you taking me?” Frank spoke, but the moment the words left his mouth a cruel shock stung his tongue.**

 

Exterminator Mikey Way was leading none other than the notorious criminal Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz The Third to his confinement quarters. He was assigned the terrorist because Director June thought it would be extra grueling for the terrorist to see how his former lover he manipulated into a life of crime reformed.

“You have to remember me, ‘Kid, you just  _ have  _ to,” Pete babbled on.

Exterminator Mikey Way reached down to his remote to administer a shock to 

Wentz’s mouth, but something in him allowed the terrorist to rave on.

~~Gerard was lead into the lobby of what seemed to be a treatment center, but he didn’t seem to feel sick. Maybe he had gained an addiction of some sort. But Better Living _wanted_ him to become addicted to pills. ~~

~~ The front desk was a long semicircle that seemed to be built into the back wall. In big silver letters, the back wall gleamed “the number one treatment facility to successfully cure the epidemic of sexually deviant acts” ~~

~~ Gerard’s eyebrows crinkled at this information. Sexually deviant acts? He didn’t even remember the last time he held hands with someone in a non-platonic scenario, much less anything sexual. ~~

 

**The long hall reached to an end and so did Frank’s vertigo. At the end of the hall was a chrome white metal door with a retinal scanner on it. The Exterminator scanned their eye on the door and it slid open, revealing a dark concrete room with hardly any lighting.**  

**Frank was shoved into the room to see that it was a cube of mirrors, no doubt one way mirrors. It seemed the room was meant for two people because on the left wall there was a set of chains and cuffs, and there was also a set of chain and cuffs on the right wall. The hum of shitty LED lights was the only noise Frank could hear.**

**Frank was dragged over to the left wall as the new set of cuffs were fastened to his wrists, his ankles, and even his neck.**

 

 

“I mean, we were… we were in  _ love  _ for fuck’s sake! And if this hellhole has taught me anything it’s that drugs can’t wipe away love!” he continued, but Mikey had no idea what the shorter man was talking about.

Mikey escorted the criminal into a glass cylindrical elevator that had a retinal scanner. Mikey scanned his eyeball and the elevator doors slid open. He shoved Pete into the elevator and followed him in briskly. Mikey punched in the numbers for Pete’s quarters and the elevator doors slid shut and zoomed upwards.

“Oh so you’re giving me the silent treatment now? Well you didn’t seem too silent when we were in bed together!” Pete spat, both of them knew Pete was sounding like a teenage girl on a soap opera, but they also both knew that Pete was desperate.

But nonetheless, his words made Mikey flinch. 

 

~~ In the middle of the lobby was a silver elevator that was built into the wall. The exterminator lead Gerard to it and scanned his eye into a retinal scanner. The elevator doors slid open revealing a silver inside. Gerard was shoved inside the elevator followed by the exterminator sweeping inside. ~~

~~ After an eternity of silence, Gerard forced himself to speak. ~~

~~ “W-why am I here exactly?” he wondered allowed. ~~

~~ This piqued the exterminator’s interest, or at least that was how he acted, “Oh, you don’t remember, Gerard?” he questioned in an almost teasing way. “You and that lover boy of yours? Together twenty four seven for all the world to see?” he pondered. ~~

~~ Gerard could feel the traces of a memory, but otherwise his mind was blank. ~~

 

**“So are we gonna have a safe word or are you just gonna beat me until I’m broken?” Frank purred mockingly. Just because he had no idea what the fuck was going on didn’t mean he couldn’t flirt with the exterminator.**

 

**The exterminator looked at Frank like he had just suggested kinky bum sex, which Frank had so he guessed the look of shock was justified.**

 

**“What are you speaking of?” the exterminator snarled.**

 

**Frank quirked a brow, “Oh, am I the only one here into sadomasochism? Damn, it’s a shame. You are pretty cute…” he continued as his eyes raked down the exterminator’s body and paused at their ass. In all honesty, the exterminator was an ugly ass motherfucker, but still it beat having to deal with baldy.**

 

The rest of the elevator ride was spent in silence. All Mikey wanted to do was pretend that Pete hadn’t said that last sentence. Pete smirked at the tinge of pink that had grown onto Mikey’s cheeks and the beads of cold sweat that lined his forehead.

“So you  _ do  _ remember…” Pete mused. 

 

~~ “W-what are you talking about?” Gerard stuttered out, desperate to grasp at the fuzzy outlines of far gone memories.  ~~

~~ The Exterminator’s mouth twisted to its side, “You’ll find out soon enough, Gerard. That is, when we reach your quarters,” he smirked.  ~~

~~ This made Gerard feel nauseous, what sort of acts could make an exterminator act  _ so smug?  _ ~~

 

**The Exterminator forgoed using the Better Living technology that seemed powerless against the young ‘joy’s wit and got out the duct tape that was hanging from their belt.**

**  
** **The Exterminator tore off a strip and held it over Frank’s mouth.**

 

**“Oh so you’ve decided to go old fashioned on me all of a sudden? Come on, bust out the sho-” Frank was cut off by the tape forcing his mouth shut. But that didn’t stop him from talking.**

 

The elevator doors slid open revealing a narrow glass tunnel that was far above the city bellow. Exterminator Mikey grabbed Pete by the arms and pushed him into the hall. Mikey’s skin tingled at the feeling of Pete’s skin against his own and he gave an eye roll at that.

 

Why was he freaking out over physical contact with a terrorist of all people? Why couldn’t he have been given a long chain to lead Pete with so he could avoid this humiliation.

 

Mikey decided to pick up the pace, the sooner Pete was in his cell, the sooner Mikey never had to see him again.

 

~~ The elevator dinged open into a giant room made of glass. The room was full of glass cylindrical elevators that seemed to shoot up into the sky. The Exterminator lead Gerard down the room and over to the center elevator. ~~

~~ The Exterminator scanned his eye on a retinal scanner and the elevator door slid open noiselessly. Gerard was lead into the tiny closet sized space and then the door slid shut. The Exterminator punched in a set of numbers then pressed a button that had an up arrow on it. ~~

~~ The elevator zoomed upwards as Gerard’s eyes locked onto the city bellow.  ~~

~~ If this elevator breaks, he thought, then I could fall to my death. ~~

**The Exterminator left Frank with nothing but his thoughts and the ominous hum of the LED lights. Frank still continued to talk even though there was no one to talk to. And even though all that left his mouth were muffled versions of God Tier Comedy, he needed those muffled words to keep himself sane.**

 

**“Wait, I’m talking to myself!” Frank realized.**

 

**“Maybe I’ve already gone insane!”**

 

Out of nowhere Pete stopped dead in his tracks. This made Mikey stumble but right before he fell to the ground Pete spun on the balls of his feet so Mikey had to collapse onto his front.

Mikey’s face flared as he fell into what had to be the terrorist’s scheme to manipulate the Exterminator into a life of crime. But there he was, on top of who was undoubtedly a gorgeous person. Well, for a criminal. 

What the fuck are you doing? Mikey thought. He felt himself flinch at the language he had used, even if it was just in his mind.

 

~~ The elevator zinged to a stop and the door slid open. Gerard’s head was spinning from how fast the elevator went. The Exterminator lead him out of the elevator and into a small glass tunnel that connected the main building to a smaller, skinnier one. The tunnel was the one thing that seperated Gerard from plummeting to the ground. ~~

~~ The Exterminator picked up his paced, Gerard could see a reflection of him smirking. Whatever was in that room, The Exterminator was sure damn excited to get Gerard in there.  ~~

~~ They reached the end of the tunnel and The Exterminator scanned their eye on the retinal scanner. The chrome white door slid open to reveal a room with one way mirrors for walls, floor, and ceiling. The hum of cheap LED lights made chills go down Gerard’s spine as he was lead into the room. ~~

~~ What he saw made him scream. ~~

~~**“HOLY SHIT!”** ~~

 

**Gerard had cried out at the same time as Frank, but Frank’s cries were muted by the duct tape. Frank felt tears well in his eyes as so many memories flooded back.**

 

**And no matter how badly he wanted to do something, all he could do was sit there and watch good ‘ol Baldy Mc’Asshole chain Gerard to  the other wall.**

 

**Then The Exterminator waltzed over to Frank and ripped the duct tape off his mouth, “Surprise,” Korse smirked as Frank let out a gasp of pain.**

 

You are attracted to women, being attracted to men is unnatural! His thoughts continued, but he tuned them out.

The terrorist flushed up at Mikey as he smirked.

“See ‘Kid, I knew you missed me,”

For a moment it seemed that they were going to kiss, but that moment was shattered by Mikey’s earpiece buzzing to life.

~~ Gerard winced as he saw Korse rip the duct tape off Frank’s mouth.  ~~

~~  
“Surprise,” The Exterminator smirked.~~

~~ “Son of a bi-” Frank was cut off by Korse’s hand being shoved into his mouth. ~~

~~ “Uh uh uh, language,” Korse tutted, Gerard was fuming. ~~

~~ Korse got up and sauntered over to Gerard, “Plus, I don’t see why you’d be angry anyways, Mr Iero,” Korse continued. ~~

~~ He leaned down and grabbed Gerard’s chin with his bony fingers, “After all, I bet you two will enjoy the next part of this procedure,” he smirked. Gerard snapped at Korse. ~~

**If Frank actually had muscles, he would break every last bone in Korse’s body. It was bad enough he was being forced to see his boyfriend getting tortured, but having to deal with getting taunted because of it? That was way too much.**

 

**Frank felt a snide retort come on, so he decided to set it free.**

**  
** **“Unless you’re planning on unchaining us and let us have all the ‘dear God i thought you were dead but hey we’re both alive’ sex we want, I don’t think we’ll be enjoying ‘the next part of the procedure,” Frank sassed, mocking Korse’s tone.**

 

**Korse turned around with a brow arched, “Actually,” he began. But Frank knew there would be a catch to that bargain.**

 

 

“Exterminator Way, you need to get the Terrorist in his cell immediately. We are almost ready for the procedures to begin,” His Mother ordered.

Mikey jerked back to his feet and yanked Pete, who was holding his wrist, with him. 

“Get your filthy terrorist hands off my body!” Mikey spat then pulled Pete along quickly to the end of the hallway. 

~~ Gerard felt sick to the stomach. He didn’t know what those Better Living fucks were planning, but he did know that it would hurt like a bitch. Whether it was physically or mentally. And though Gerard couldn’t remember shit, he could remember that he wouldn’t be able to handle another round of torture. ~~

 

**Frank watched as Korse swept out of the room confidently, a snarl twisted onto his bruised face. His eyes lingered down to the blank patches of skin that were interspersed with the tattoos he got away with.**

 

**He wanted to punch someone. Hurt someone. Destroy something. Destroy anything. Destroy everything.**

 

**But all he could do was sit there.**

  
Mikey scanned his eye and the door to Pete’s cell slid open in an ironically calm manner. All six surfaces of the room were mirrors and cheap LED lights hummed ominously from the ceiling.

Exterminator Mikey dragged Pete in and quickly put him in his new set of handcuffs.

Pete bit his lip, “Looks like you’re not so vanilla spice after all K-”   
  


“Don’t call me that!” Mikey spat, he slapped Pete right in the face.

Pete sat there, stunned, he almost looked like he was even going to cry. Suddenly his calm exterior hardened, “Fine,” he growled. As he shifted against the right wall so he was sitting up straight, “Exterminator Mikey,” he ground out.

Exterminator Mikey smirked at Pete’s sudden change in attitude and rose up to his feet, “I’ll return with you counterpart for this proceadure shortly,” he informed Pete then began to walk away.

He stepped over to the door to see His Mother standing there, a shrewd scowl on her face.

“M-mother? What are you doing here?” Mikey stuttered.

His Mother grabbed him by the wrists and shoved him back into the room and up against the left wall. Mikey fell to the ground with a thud, and stared up at his mother in shock as she started chaining him to the wall.

“I-I don’t understand,” he stammered, had he done something wrong?

“Of course you don’t understand, desert rat! So I’m going to spell it out for you with big black letters like you’re in kindergarten;” his mother began.

“You will be Peter’s counterpart in this procedure,” she drawled, doing just as she said and treating Mikey as a kindergartener.

“But why?” Mikey questioned.

“Poor Mikey, you don’t even remember why you’re here,” His Mother taunted then stepped out of the room and slammed the door shut.

And that was when Mikey remembered how he got there.


	13. .Mikey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is shorter than usual but that's because it's a flashback scene. I've been very busy lately with summer and stuff but now that I have this short chapter out of the way I'll be able to start publishing longer ones soon.

*Back During The Jail Break*

Mikey writhed on the ground as his body throbbed in pain.

Smoke engulfed  his nostrils and clogged his chest. 

He needed to get up.

He needed to find the terrorist.

But he just couldn't  _move._

Mikey was torn from his stupor when a man with short dark hair and tattoos came rushing into his room. He was in a white scarecrow uniform with the hood unzipped, which revealed a head of dark hair and big brown eyes full of panic  He was panting, screaming the same name over and over again as his eyes darted around the room.

 "Kid! Kid? Where are y-"  he stepped up to Mikey and his jaw dropped when he saw the state Mikey was in. This made Mikey bristle, who was he, a  _terrorist_ to judge  _him,_ and exterminator.

A look of shock and sympathy ripples onto the terrorist's face, "My God, what have they done to you?"

Mikey's  instincts screamed at him to get up and fight the terrorist. That he shouldn't take the pity of a deranged maniac. But he just sat there, frozen. His eyes were locked onto the shorter man. The terrorist bent down and picked him up bridal style. Mikey tried to fight against his grip but all his limbs could do was sway as a low groan rose from his throat.

Mikey's head  throbbed as the terrorist rushed him out of the apartment. Mikey felt like he was dreaming, a building in Battery City burning down? At the hands of his own brother? He was probably going insane and was actually back in a rehab center to get fixed.

The terrorist  stopped at the kitchen and sat Mikey down on the white countertop. He grabbed a small metal trash can and filled it with tap water, then threw it on the fire. Some of the flames deteriorated  only for more of them to come rushing up.

The terrorist continued to fill up  the trash with water and throw it on the flames. Mikey was suffocating inside his uniform. He couldn't breath. His eyes stung with tears. He needed to get out of here. Get away from the city and out into the desert.

No, Mikey corrected himself, he needed to get away from the terrorist.

The terrorist walked up to Mikey and unzipped his uniform. Mikey let out gasps of air and kept his head angle downwards in order to keep in fresh cold oxygen. After all, heat rose. As Mikey forced himself to consciousness he realized something.

The terrorist could have killed him.

The terrorist could have let  him suffocate or throw him in the fire.

Instead , here he was standing in the middle of a burning kitchen throwing water on a giant fire for him.

Why?

Mikey drew in a deep breath of air just so he could gasp out, "Why are you saving me,"

The terrorist froze in place when he heard Mikey speak. He turned to Mikey with a look on his face that could only be described as a look that shouldn't be happening in a burning building. He cupped Mikey's cheek in one of his hands and whispered, with ash and burns smeared across his face, "Because I care about you 'Kid," 

Suddenly Mikey wasn't Mikey anymore.

He was Kobra Kid.

And he remembered  _everything._

Mikey jumped off the countertop and grabbed Sandman by the hair and pulled him in for a quick, passionate kiss.

"I missed you," Kobra breathed against Sandman's lips. Before Sandman could respond Kobra grabbed his hand and was running for the door. There was fire everywhere in the building, Kobra's head was realing.

"Where is Poison?" Kobra rushed.

"He's in the lobby with the others, we have to go now," Sandman explained. 

Kobra heard a door slam shut. His and  Sandman's eyes darted to the door to see a familiar figure.

Mikey's so called mother.  The fake one that had beaten and abused him. The bitch who had brainwashed him to become a better living clone.

Her.

Mikey flinched when he heard the click of a lock. His fake mother stalked towards him and Pete, "Having a little reunion I see?" she wondered  with her lips pursed. Mikey scowled at her.

She only laughed at that, "Now, now, Michael, get this terrorist in handcuffs and let's get out of here," she ordered.

Sandman stared at Mikey in shock  as he moved to obey her orders, when suddenly Mikey froze.

He wasn't Mikey.

He was Kobra Kid.

And he remembered just in time.

Kobra cocked his hip and settled a hand on it, "You can kiss my ass motherfucker!" he sassed then pulled Sandman over to him by the Scarecrow uniform and smashed their lips together.

Mikey' s fake mother stared in shock. When they broke apart with desperate gasps of air, she scowled at them.

"Fine, then we'll just have to do this the easier way," she spat. She pulled a metal canister out of her back pocket and  pulled  the top of it  off. She tossed it to the ground as white fumes hissed from it. Kobra knew what this was and smashed his hand over his mouth and Sandman.

"Don't breath," Konra hissed.

The strong stench punctured the air like a needle.  Kobra and Sandman starred at each other with looks of horror on their faces.  They both  knew that trying to escape the gas was useless, but they had shoved that realization away in an attempt to grab onto what little hope they had left.

But soon, Sandman gasped out  after turning blue in the face. His body that heaved in oxygen desperately said relief, but his eyes that stared into Kobra's desperately said horror. Kobra watched Sandman collapse to the ground unoncious. His instincts flared and his acknowledgement of the gas vanished.

His hand dropped from his mouth, "Sandma-" before he could finish his words Kobra collapsed to the ground unconcious.

Kobra Kid sat there, with his back pressed against the wall, his eyes stared into oblivion. "I  _am_ a killjoy," he realized. His eyes were locked on Sandman who's face softened into a smile of relief. Kobra smiled back. And for a moment, it seemed it was just the two of them.

"Awe, Michael,  _now_ you remember," His Mother cooed in a sickly sweet voice. Her grip on Kobra's wrist tightened until Kobra could hardly feel his hand.

His Mother threw him to the ground. Kobra's head collided with a concrete wall which made blood explode from the back. His neck snapped back and forwards in a way that would give him whip lash later. Kobra just laid there, groaning in pain. Sandman watched all of this silently, with horror written all over his face.

Mikey's Mother sauntered over to the center of the room and clasped her hands together. The sound made Kobra flinch as his head ached dully.

 _"_ Now! Let us begin!" His Mother snarled.

 

 

 


	14. The Proceadure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyy sorry for not posting in forever it's just first i had finals then I had drumline camp which was basically 7/7 of marching with a bass drum on from eight AM to five PM and then I had a vacation to new york but yeah. not I'm back. There will be some Sandman/Kobra fluff in this chapter and the ones to come up but it's more of the 'we're getting through this together' and 'sassy banter' type fluff. But that doesn't mean they won't have hardships. But yeah things DO go pretty 'up' from here, or what could be considered up in a dystopian thriller. Heads up this chapter involves some sexual themes because of Sandman and Kobra being ruinited. If youre not comfortable with reading those parts just skip the scene starting when Sandman and Kobra go into their room. It doesn't get too graphic until the line "He stormed up to the glass doors that seperated him from the moaning, panting, wreck that was Sandman and the doors slid open." and ends at "But then it happened." it's just they start talking about sex starting when they walk into their room. There isn't any actual smut, it just gets VERY close to smut (I guess it could count as smut since they're making out naked). FYI those parts are kind of necesary to the plot so I'll put a little summary at the beginning of the next chapter for those who skipped those parts.

The proceadure started with pills, which was no surprise for Kobra and Sandman. It always started with pills. They were both given a singular white pill on a silver tray. Kobra pulled the capsule apart and dumped all the little white beads inside it on the ground. All the while he glared at  _His Mother_ with a look of defiance on his face.

For Sandman though, refusing the pill was a struggle. He was a former adict when growing up and once every blue moon could want to relapse when presented with opertounities like this. Kobra watched Sandman like a hawk, after all he went through he didn't think he could handle losing him again. 

Sandman's eyes widened at the small white pill as his hand slowly moved down to pick it up. He took the pill between his fingers and held it up to his face, inspecting it. Kobra could already see the struggle in his brown eyes. The same struggle that he used to see every desert night when he found Sandman sitting on the diner's roof with a bottle of placebos in hand. Kobra stayed silent though, and he planned on doing so until it was absolutely nesecary.

Sandman began to sit down the pill, which made Kobra let out a sigh of relief. But suddenly Sandman's pupils dialated and he started to shove the pill into his mouth. Kobra threw caution to the wind and did the only thing he could do.

"Sandman!" he blurted out. His Mother arched her brow in curiosity.

Kobra's shout distracted Sandman from the pill and he looked up at him.

Kobra took deep breaths and acted like it was just the two of them back on the diner roof, "You don't need them, they won't bring you happiness. They will  _destroy_ you. You don't need them, because you have me," he assured Sandman.

Sandman let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and slowly sat down the pill, his gaze didn't break from Kobra once while he did this.

Kobra braced himself for the torture, for the electricity, for the flashbacks, for the needles. He braced himself for a punch in the face, to be dragged by the hair as he begged for mercy, but His Mother did nothing of the such.

She just clasped her hands together and sighed, "Oh well, I can't force you to take them. Let's go," She got out a white remote control and pressed a button on it. The handcuffs unlatched and fell from Kobra's wrists and ankles. Kobra stared in shock as the same happened to Sandman's, this couldn't be happening. It had to be a trap. 

His Mother pointed the remote at the wall opposite the door to their cell and pressed another button. The door slid open and revealed a wide open hall much like the lobby of a hotel. Kobra winced at how bright the LED lights shown against the white tiled floor.

Kobra pushed himself up off the ground and hesitantly walked out his cell. Sandman followed shortly after. The cell door closed behind the couple as they walked into the lobby There was a glass front desk with a white droid working it. 

Sandman and Kobra approached the front desk together.

"Scanning for reservations," the droid monotoned in a female voice with a british accent. A white light burst from the top of her head and slowly scanned down the faces of the two killjoys. The light made Kobra's eyes burn, but he could handle it.

The droid made a chime sound, "Awe yes right here it says Sandman and Kid reservation for two," she recited. She held her arm in front of her and a shaft opened up to reveal a row of white keycards. She picked one out of the cards and handed it to Kobra. 

"It's right down the hall, the room on the end," the droid explained.

Kobra and Sandman walked away together huddled close.

"What the actual fuck is going on, Kid?" Sandman whispered.

Kobra shrug, "I don't know, one minute they're torturing us the next their," 

They approached the end of the hall that had two frosted glass double doors. A plaque on the left hand side said in silver letters Honeymoon Suite.

"Giving us a honeymoon suite?" he puzzled.

"Um, isn't this supposed to be a  _conversion_ facility? As in, ya know, homophobia for the win kind of deal?" Sandman pointed out.

Kobra scanned the keycard and the two doors slid open, and what the doors revealed looked like something out of an issue of  _Shiny._ Just, without any pornodroids or weird stuff that only Fuck Machine would be into.

The room was giant, with a black leather couch against one wall and a tv against the other. Behind those were a giant black and white king sized bed. There were another set of glass doors on the side that alluded to a second room. 

Sandman and Kobra stepped into the room, awestruck by the sight. It had been forever since they had last been in a bedroom. Much less, one with an actual bed and working electricity. Kobra jumped when he heard the glass doors slide shut behind him. 

Sandman walked over to the bed and jumped onto it, the mattress bouncing under his weight. 

Kobra stared at the room, he felt like he was in a dream. That if he were to interact with the room that he would wake up and be back in his cell. 

"This has to be a trap," Kobra decided, as he stepped around the room to inspect it further.

Sandman cracked a grin, "Yeah but that doesn't mean we can't take advantage of it!" he laughed. 

Kobra stepped up to Sandman and plopped down next to him on the bed. The bed was so soft Kobra actually let out a moan as his form sunk into the matress. 

"Comfy, right?" Sandman smirked.

Kobra's fingers brushed against something and he turned around to look at it. Little white packets sat on the bed with black smiley face stamped onto them. Next to the packets were what looked like a white lotion bottle with the same Better Living industries logo stamped onto them. 

Kobra and Sandman looked at each other in shock. It didn't take a pornodroid to know what those were. 

"Condoms?" Kobra realized.

Sandman pumped the lotion bottle a couple of times to see what was inside it. A thick, clear, slippery liquid onto his fingers.

"Lube," Sandman identified as he tried to keep a straight face. But that didn't stop his cheeks from ringing with color. 

The moment Kobra realized what the two objects were he was already jumping to his own conclusions. He was up on his feet and storming to the door, banging on it. "You disgusting perverts!" he snarled.

Sandman got up on his feet to check on his boyfrend.

"You sickos! You torture us! And beat us! And then you lock us in a room together and expect us to have sex?" he exclaimed.

Sandman grabbed onto Kobra's arm, "Kid, calm down," he soothed.

Kobra whipped around to him and spat, "No I will not calm down! Baldy can't get himself a fuck budy so he decides to make his own p-" Kobra was cut off by Sandman scanning the keycard on the doors. The keycard beeped and the doors slid open. It was just a normal hallway with droids and other people walking around, no prisons, no Korse, no guns to the head. 

"See? They're not trying to get porn out of us," Sandman assured, "But there is definetly something fishy going on," he added.

Sandman closed the bedroom doors and they walked back to the bed and sat down on it. They stayed like that for what seemed like forever. Sandman slowly nuzzled up to Kobra, "We could... have-"

"Destroya Sandman! I'm not going to have sex with you just because it's been two hundred and sixty four hours, three minutes, and five seconds since we've last done it!" Kobra exploded.

Sandman just sat there with his eyes wide, "Someone who doesn't want to have sex wouldn't be calculating down to the very second when was the last time he got it on," he muttered. Kobra just gave him a playful glare.

Sandman got up from the bed and filled a glass with water. He took a sip of the water and let out a sigh, "Oh my gosh," he breathed. The ice cold water was filtered to perfection, it slithered down his throat like a perfect waterfall and sloshed down into his stomach. 

Sandman leaned against the bar and Kobra just stared at him. It looked like Sandman didn't  _need_ Kobra to get off as long as they had more of that water. "Kid! If you're not going to use the free contraception we got then at least drink this water!" he gasped out after taking another drink. 

Kobra approached Sandman and took the glass from him and drank from him. Kobra could feel the iciness of the water chill his every nerve and replenish his lack of food and water. "You're right," he agreed.

Kobra continued to scan the room until his eyes layed on the last thing he thought he'd see in a building owned by Better Living Inudstries. Sitting on the nightstand next to the bed was a record player and a stack of colored Mad Gear and Missel Kid EPs. 

"Woah," Sandman gaped as he walked over to the nightstand, "Do you know how rare these are, Kid?" he exclaimed. 

Kobra took one of the EPs in his hand, "Yeah," he said in a far off voice. He flipped over the EP to see the tracklist on the back. 

Side A

FTWWW

Mastas Of Ravenkroft

Black Dragon Fighting Society

Side B

Vampire Money

Zero Percent

We Don't Need Another Song About California

Kobra flushed when he realized what EP this was. The last time he, the rest of the Fabulous Four, and The Youngbloods were playing truth or dare Kobra was asked of all the albums in existance, which one turned him on the most. Kobra was holding that album. The one that every time he listened too all his blood ran south and his head ran wild with images of Sandman.

"Shit," he muttered.

Sandman nudged over to Kobra and slid his hand up his thigh. When he spoke he did in a low voice that was really just coverup for how desperate he was, "I bet  _now_ you wanna have-" 

"Sandman, for fucks sake, we can't have sex  _condoned_ by Better Living Industries! It's one thing doing it in secret! But this- it's just- I don't know some sort of trap! It's creepy!" Kobra reasoned as he tried to fight off the nasty thoughts that made his head go dizzy with excitement. He didn't move away from Sandman though. 

Sandman's lips quirked with a shit eating grin, "Your little friend down there begs to differ," he muttered. Kobra's face flushed when he looked down at the obvious bulge in his pants. As if that wasn't bad enough for Kobra's whole 'we're not gonna fuck' spiel, Sandman's dick was starting to get curious as well.

Sandman's hand shifted towards Kobra's growing problem. Just the heat of Sandmna's fingers sent a shiver of sensation through Kobra's bones which tore him from his lustful daze.

Kobra pushed himself off the bed and started to pace back and forth. His breath came out in desperate pants and Sandman could see the sweat sticking to his forehead. No matter how diciplined Kobra claimed to be, Sandman knew the poor guy was dying for it. But then again, Kobra had a point, so Sandman decided to give his panicked lover a chance.

"Okay, here's the plan. You are going to be in here," Kobra gestured to the bed, "I," he moved quickly over to the other pair of glass doors and they slid open, "Am going to be in there. Despite the song, blue balls  _are_ in fact a myth, so we can just ride this out until tomorrow," Kobra thought outloud.

"Ironic of you to use the term 'ride' when the  _other_ solution involves the term 'ride' more literally," Sandman smirked from the bed.

Kobra's cheeks flared even more as he gritted his teeth at Sandman frustradedly, "We are  _not_ going to have sex. Nor are we gonna jerk off. Because old planned parenthood studies showed that jerking off  _also_ makes you horny," he concluded.

"Did you get that information from the same place you got that 'blue balls is a myth' fact?" Sandman deadpanned.

Kobra crossed his arms, "In fact, yes I did," he sassed back.  _At least our bitching at each other  is distracting us from the... situation we're in._ Kobra realized.

"And  _where_ did you get this information from?" Sandman inquired.

"I will have you know I got this information from four of the most revered feminist and sexual health killjoys in all of California," Kobra stated confidently.

"Did you get the information from a copy of  _Shiny_ or a zine made by Jigsaw Youth," Sandman monotoned.

Kobra let out a  _psh_ then lied, "I didn't get the information from a  _porno_ magazine! Much less a bunch of badass anarchist femi-"

Sandman gave Kobra a look that said 'cut the bullshit' and the Kid knew he was serious.

"Fine. Last month's issue of Jigsaw Youth," Kobra admitted.

"So let me get this straight, you're telling me that we  _don't_ have to fix our...  _issues_ because of something you read from a zine made by a bunch of women who are bicurious at the  _very least_  and aren't afraid of having your dick fall off?" Sandman gaped.

Kobra pursed his lips, "Perhaps..." he trailed off.

 "Listen Kid, do whatever  _you_ want, but I'm not gonna risk losing my second raygun on the offchance that it might make me hotter for you than I already am," Sandman chuckled.

He suddenly pushed himself against Kobra which threw the taller joy off guard, "Which by the way, is impossible at this point," he hissed against the sweet spot behind Kobra's ear. That alone was enough to make Kobra let out a quiet moan. 

Sandman balked at this as he shoved Kobra back into the other room and then the frosted glass doors slid shut. Kobra stopped in his tracks abrubtly and stared at the thick glass. The second room was longer than wide, it had a black leather couch against one wall and a tv against the other. More furniture surrounded the glass coffee table that the couch was behind. There was  _not_ a second bed in there. But there was a full kitchen including a stovetop, an oven, and a microwave.

Kobra jumped when he heard Sandman's voice rasp through the glass doors, "Okay, Kid, 'm gonna jerk off now. Feel free to watch, or join,"

Kobra bit back a desperate whimper and moved over to the black leather couch. The couch was stiff and not at all soft like the bed,  _hmm, wonder where they want us to spend our time in._ Kobra thought.

Kobra tried to ignore what he thought was the sound of Sandman's pants unzipping as he picked up the white remote from the coffee table and turned on the tv. Yeah, that's what he would do, watch tv. Distract himself, give himself a couple laughs. His boner would go down in no time as long as he thought about things that weren't sexy.

You know, so the excact opposite of Mad Gear and Missel Kid performing their notoriously slutty song  _Destroya_ live.

Kobra stared in horror and arousal at the sight of the two bandmates moaning sensuously into the microphone. He let out a groan of annoyance as he felt a bought of discharge smear against his pants. He knew he would have to take them off, even if it wasn't cum, he wasn't going to risk having to tell the entire desert with a straight face that he gave himself siphylus. But that was for another time, now Kobra had to change the channel.

Much to his dismay, the next channel was famous pornodroid channel ShinyTV run by none other than Fuck Machine himself. "Dammit Mindless! Can those bastards keep it in their pants for more than five minutes?" he spat. He wanted to continue watching the two BoyDroids intertwine in each other's legs and have a disgusting ammount of sex, but he knew that would only lead him waking up next to Sandman. Kobra covered his eyes with his hands and muted the tv. But the moans only stopped for a split second, because in the other room Kobra could hear Sandman almost screaming in pleasure and the squeaking of the mattress.

Kobra's hands flew to his ears  in order to keep himself from hearing Sandman's moans only to be faced with a lifetime's worth of graphic pornodroid imagery. Kobra cried out when he saw this and flipped the channel by pressing his boot on the remote. The next channel was in fact graphic, but not the kind Kobra was into. In fact it was quite the opposite.

A younger version of the infamous lesbian droid couple known as Red and Blue around the age of eighteen going down on each other. Kobra forced himself to stare at the sight that sent waves of nausea over him. He never understood how they could do it. People who dated biological females. Kobra hardly handled having sex when  _he_ was biologically female.

He felt so weird, so distorted. He figured that was why he couldn't handle watching pairs of girls naked and intertwined with each other. The disfiguring unnatural manner of their curves, the complexity that was the vagina. Kobra never had an orgasm until he got himself hooked up with Fuck Machine who with the help of android parts, made him biologically male. It wasn't that he was sexist or transphobic, it was just that whenever he saw the naked female body he saw himself  _with_ that female body.

He was fine with girls walking around the desert without shirts, bras, or even bare naked. They could do what they wanted. But it was whenever he was skimming over a copy of  _Shiny's : Pansy Edition_ only to see an add for their  _Violet_ edition to pop up. Kobra remembered the first time that happened. He had just gotten his new body, the real Kobra, and everything felt great. Perfect even. When all of a sudden he saw that picture of two shiny lavender LesDroids. 

Kobra felt the old boughts of dysphoria travel through his veins again but he had to keep watching, if he were to surrender to the tears that perched in his eyes and the vomit  that pooled in his stomach and seek Sandman's comfort he would-

Well, Kobra was too scared to find out what would happen if he fell for what seemed to be what the entire world wanted him to do. Even the moans of Red and Blue were arousing to Kobra, even if what they were doing was like torture for him to watch. 

As the footage continued, Kobra's mind started to drift down memory lane. The first time he saw his developed body at the age of fourteen. The giant inconvient lumps that protruded from his chest that gave him no pleasure when touched. The selfconcious way he felt when his Better Living issued pencil skirt hugged his hips and made his ass stick out in a sick treat for his perverted male superiors. The hell that came once a month that made him want to crawl under a stack of pad wrappers and dissapear. But of course he still had to work, still had to wear those damn heels no matter how much his body screamed in objection.

Kobra was crying at this point, biting back sobs of those painful days that he thought he had escaped. He didn't want to disrupt Sandman, because the last thing he needed was his comforting arms around him. The last thing he needed was for Sandman was to make him feel like the weak little better living industries servant girl he was raised to be.

Kobra got up from the couch and wiped his tears away with the heels of his palms. He flipped off ShinyTV and held his head high. "Fuck it," he muttered. He stormed up to the glass doors that seperated him from the moaning, panting, wreck that was Sandman and the doors slid open. 

Kobra walked in on what could be considered one of those humilating moments one has when they're so desperate and horny they try to eat themselves out. Or in this case, suck their own nipple. Kobra's lips quirked into a smirk when he saw Sandman sprawled on the bed, his hair a mess, his shirt tossed to the side, and his pants at his ankles. He didn't care if it was a trap, it was what he needed. Kobra felt his mouth salivate as he approached the bed. Sandman was so distracted that he didn't even notice the taller killjoy approach.

"I'll take care of that for you, Sandy," Kobra assured as he got up on the bed and straddled Sandman. 

Sandman stared up at Kobra with wild eyes, "Kid? Are you okay? Have you been cry-" Sandman's words descended into a moan as Kobra took one of his nipples into his mouth and started sucking hard.

Sandman whined as he bucked up against the Kid's hips. "Kid," he begged, "Please more," his voice was hoarse and desperate.

Kobra chuckled softly, "Patience," he smirked against Sandman's neck. He then began to suck sweet spots right there.

"Wait!" Sandman blurte. Kobra pulled himself away from Sandman and arched a brow.

"Kid, what are you doing here? Like... what do you want?" Sandman gasped out. Kobra felt a blush tingle his cheeks, Sandman always made sure to ask him that before they did anything. So he could make sure Kobra was pleased. The same happened vice versa, so the two always got what they wanted in bed, or at least close to it.

Kobra started biting against Sandman's jawline as his hand moved down to grab Sandman's wrist to move his hand off his dick. Sandman whimpered at the absense of his hand around him, but Kobra was gonna take care of that. 

"I want you to make me feel like a man," Kobra ground out against Sandman's neck.

Sandman let out a loud drawn out moan, "You bet your ass I'm gonna make you feel like a man," he replied hotly.

The two of them continued for a while, just making out and the two feeling each other up. Nothing that would require condoms or lube, but by the time they  _were_ ready for those Kobra was buck naked. 

But then it happened. Right as things were feeling good to Kobra again. Right as he was about to move to get the condoms and lube. Kobra was just about to lean down and kiss Sandman one last time, deep, rough, and dirty, before they actually fuck. Then the moment Kobra's lips collided with Sandman's he was in another place completely.

Ko͢b͘ra w͘a͢s͞ ͜i̵n͞ ͞ą wh̕ìt̢e͟ íce͞ cold͜ m̵e̶d͡ical ̀la͡b. ͝Ici̷n͠es͠s̛ r̢ac͟e̸d over ̀his ͡ski̛n̶ ̵aş ͢he̵ s̵t͘a͘red͡ down a͞t t͠he ͟h̵o͞r̴ri͘f̨ic͏ si̵ghţ be͏llo̴w ͞him̸.̸ ̧I͠t ͝w̨aş S̡an̴dma̛n.͜ ́H̀e,͢ o̶r ̧i̕t,͘ wàs͟ m҉o̴re̷ ́ơf a ̨m͘ang͝le̢d́ c͞o̴rps͞e. fl͞e̸s̴h̛ bar͏l͡e̶y͡ ͏çlu̶n͏g ͏t͞o t͞he̡ ̴b͢l̀ac̢k̨en͢ed ̡sk̴ulĺ that ̸was s͝tai̶n͏e͘d ͜wit̡ḩ b̛lood.̵ Its ͝c̵l͏ot̸hes͠ w͢ere ͜a͜ll͢ ̢sh͟rȩdd̶e͢d̛ ańd ͠to͢r̕n. It͘ l͜o͟o͢ke̡d̷ lik͜e̵ ͞it had̀ be̸en e͘atęn͟ ̸b̕y̧ ̶a̡ ͢bu͜n҉c̡h of ́v́ul̛t͘u̢res.

͡Tḩe҉ ̸s͡t͞e̶n͘ch ̵of b̸l͟ood and̛ f͞les̢h m̸a̵d̕e̴ t̸he ąįr ̀r̸eȩk and͟ ̕Kóbrà d̴i҉zz̸y͢ w̛ith̴ n̵a͡us͞ea̡.̵ He ̡s͟t͠ar͠ted̴ ̶to̴ ̷s̕hif̢t͡ ̛b͢a͝ck to ̨ģet a͏w͢ay҉ ͟from̸ ͝t͠h̀e rem͝ains o͞f͠ S̡an͏d̴man͡ ̸whe̸n ͝the̢ ̵co̵ŕp͟s̕e̛ j̷e͡rk̴ed so̧ i̧t͝ ͡w͜a͡s͢ ͟s͠i̡t͝tin͠g͞ up̶. ̸Kobra ̸ļe̴t̡ ̛oųt ̢a͞ ̵shriek̛ aś ̴a͏ l̨o̵ps̕i͘d̵ed͜ ͟s͏mi͝l̴e ̢sl̕i̵d ̨o͞n̨t́o ̵h͞is̨ d͞ès҉t̨royed l̛i̸p̶s. T͏h͡e thing c̴ocke͟d̡ ͏h̢is h҉ea̶d̷ ̡ha͜pp̧ily ͡a̢n̶d̴ ţhre͘w i҉t͘s̵ ̢m̀angled͏ a͝r̢ms̸ ̛a͡r̕óun̸d ͘K̴obra.͜

͜

̡"̷Gèt ̕a̴w̵ay͞ ͞fr̡óm me̴!͞ ̶Get҉ ͠àwa̷y f͘ro̶m̛ me!͟" ̷h́e s̢hr̛i҉l̛leḑ ̴a͟s ́he̕ ͟s̴h͜o̕v͜ęd ͢a̴way̢ ͝t̸hé mang̵l҉e͡d҉ ͞f̴igu͞red. ͏H́e ́s̀tag͟g͡e͝red b͠ac̴k ̵an͝d̛ in͏to the̢ ̶a͟r҉ms͏ o̷f͢ ͏a̧ f̕ell̷ow ͢Ȩx͝term͟in̸ąt̛o͠r.͞ H͘e͡ ͢lo͘o͝k̸ed͟ at ͏h̵er̨ ́wi͜th͞ ͟a lo̧ǫk ǫf͟ te̡ŗror ̀oǹ h͝is ̢f̀ace̕.

̛

̛S̨he ̵h͜ad̀ blo̕nde̸ ̕hai͜r͞ ąnd ̢blue ey҉es̶ and sno͟w̕ ͝w͠hiţe̴ s̵k̴i̢n. H̵er̶ ̧f͠o̧r̕m ̵w̛a͟s ͡per͏f̀e҉ctly͞ p̧róporti͝o͝ne͜d̛ to ąn͘y ̨g͞uy's͟ ͜stan̡da̧r̕d͟s.͞ ͜Pre͢t͝t̸y.̨ ̛K̀ob͘ra ob̨ser҉ved̵.͏

̛No, you're gay. Kobra corrected himself.

A ̛di͟sgùst̸ed͢ l̶oo̵k͝ ͝twi̶s̢ted ̢o͡n͘t̷o t͘he blon̛de̢'͜s fa̕će,̶ "Fi͡ne, if̵ th̨a̵t's͝ wha̛t ̴you͠ wan̨t̵,͏ g̀o ̛and̸ h̸av̸e͢ y̵o͠u͠r ́zo͢mbie̕ boy. Jùst ͢r̵e̡me͡mbe̛r,͢ ͠you coul͘d h͏avè ̡h̵ad̨ m̴e̕,͢" she̛ sn̷a͝r͢l҉e̵d ͟t̶h͡en pla͝c͏e̡d ͝a ͢ta͜u҉ntin̵g͘ k̀iss̸ on̷ K͢obra's ҉che͞e̴k̕.̸ ͞Kobr̡a s̷h̢i̵v̶e̡r͝ed ̨in͞ b͘oth͡ ̢disg͟ųst̵ a̛n̕d͞ ̷want̶ a͝ţ ̛he̢r li͡p͏s҉.͞ He͠ ̢almo̕s͡t fe̡lt͘ ͟eupho͞ŗic ̡at her ̴tou̸c̨h̨. ̕Bu͢t͝ th͘at ͝e̶u͡r̴ph҉o͜ria fade͡d wh͠e̡n̸ s̡he̕ sh̸ov͟ȩd h̴im͟ b̡ác͢k ̧to̧w̢a͠r̨d͏s͡ ͞the͞ ̀man҉g͝l͏e͏d ͟c͟o̕r͏p͡s̕e ҉thing͡ t̵hat h͝ad tried͢ ̡to̢ ͡attack him.

͞

̕K̵obra͜ l̵et̡ ̴óu͝t̨ ͟a̡ ́g̡as̸p̀ a̸s ̸th͠e҉ ̵c̡o̢rps҉e͟ ̧sta̵rted ̨t̸o ̷p̛l͡ąn҉t̴ ̸sic͏k kis͢s͏ed a̴long̶ hi͢s̀ f̴ace, ̸i͏t͡'͝s ͞jag͜g̢ed t̴e͠eth c͢ut҉ ͝i̴nt̀o hi̵s̕ ski̶n̶ a̵n͘d made h͏i̧m̀ hu͢rt͞.͠ ͢"҉Ǵet a̛way from͟ ̵me҉," ͢K̀obr͡a̧ ͠mutt̛ere͟d a̸g͡ai̴n. 

҉Th͡e̛ thing ig̶no͞r̨eḑ ̷h̷im̧ ͜an̡d̀ ̵st͝a͢rţe͡d t͘o͏ ̛g͠r͢i͡p̀ a͝t hi͞s̀ h͟ips.̡ ͝K͘ob̧r̕a s͢nappȩd ańd ̵k͏ic͞k͠ed̛ ̕th͜e th̸i̴ng ̛r̶i̕ght ̵i̢n ̵th̵e͝ ̀c̨r͢ot̀c̛h. T̨hé t̨h̶ing̨ ̴cr̕i͠èd̕ ͠ou̧t̕ ́i̶ņ ͜p͞a͝iǹ ̧and ̀s̶t͟ąg̴g͘er̸éd b͜ack. K̢o̵b͏ra s̶t͟ag̨ge̕r͡ȩd̴ baćk̵w̷ards ̀a̡nd͟ ͠tr̸ie̶d̀ t̵o͟ find s̡o̵methi͠n̴g̷ t̨o̢ f̶al͘l a̢ga̡įnst,͜ ͘b͟ut ̡he ͠f͡ell int͜o͝ ̨a ̢wh͟i̶t̡e͡ ̷v̡òi͜d of̛ ͜ǹo̕thing.̶

Kobra's head struck against the corner of the coffeetable in the bedroom. He was still on the floor, sweating and writhing, "Let me go! Let me go!" he continued to cry out until his voice was raw. Tears blurred his vision and he was certain he had coughed up some sort of vomit. 

When his hysteria faded he realized he was in his and Sandman's room at the 'hotel'. He was still completely naked, with his clothes now strewn around the floor like he had scattered him when he started to hallucinate. He looked up to see Sandman on the bed, hands covering his crotch, and thrashing around screaming in pain. 

Kobra felt a sting of regret when he realized that he was the one who had kicked him there.

"Please get away from me! I'll do anything I swear!" Sandman begged. His voice was so raw and jagged that it hurt Koba's ears to hear him in such a distressed state.

Kobra ran up to Sandman and grabbed him by the shoulders, "Sandman! It's me! Sandman! It's all fake! It's all in your head!" Kobra rushed. Sandman fell away from him and let out the most inhuman noise Kobra had ever heard. 

"No! Please! Not again! Please! Don't hurt me! No!  _Don't hurt him!"_ he shrilled. Tears were spilling from his face. All Kobra could do was stare and watch in horror until Sandman jerked awake out of nowhere.

Sandman''s eyes darted around the room wildly, "Kid? Kid!" he exclaimed until his eyes finally fell on the kid, "Oh thank Destroya you're okay," he sighed then pulled Kobra in for a quick hug. Kobra flinched at this and felt a slight feeling of disgust when Sandman hugged him.

That freak, that distorted, zombie like figure that had attacked him in his hallucination. 

It was Sandman.

When the two got dressed and calmed down, they sat down on the couch in the other room with the tv most certainly off. They were trying to brainstorm to come up with what caused their hallucinations.

"I mean, she even offered us pills and we denied them," Sandman puzzled.

Kobra nodded in agreement, "Yeah, unless we had something since then, which we haven't, we're clean!" he reasoned.

"Well... except for that totally kick ass water," Sandman added. He had said it as a joke, but when  the words left his mouth the pieces of the puzzle seemed to click together in the two killjoys' heads.

They both let out a gasp and turned to each other, "The water," they realized simultaneously.

 


	15. The Plan

It didn't take five minutes for Sandman and Kobra to get in the shower together. They were both fully clothed and the water was off as they mapped out what they knew of Better Living's Plans. They were certain that even if they were being watched, that at least the sexual misconduct laws would somehow clash with the anti-privacy laws  so that the government wasn't allowed to film bathrooms. 

Sandman was pacing back and forth in the shower, "Okay so here's what we know. A part of the conversion procedure involves luring queer couples into what seems like a sex fantasy right out of every horny teenager's dreams. Then they trick them into taking some sort of drugs or chemicals, via totally kick ass water and probably free alcohol, that trigger hallucinations and paranoia right when... well..." Sandman's face flushed as his hand shifted to cover up the hard on he was having to wade out. 

Kobra stifled a laugh at this, "Yeah..." he chuckled.  Kobra stood there with his eyes locked on the ominous smiley face printed on the white tiles of the bathroom. Even though he knew he wasn't being recorded, he still felt like he was being watch by its beady white eyes. 

Kobra bit his lip but his eyes didn't dare shift away from the face, "I think," his voice cracked, "That what they're trying to do is associate the pain and paranoia we associate with Better Living Industry with same sex relationships..." he thought out loud. His hallucination did seem very Battery-City-like, in fact there was a moment where he thought that he was just waking up from a dream and back into his life of suffering.

Sandman's eyes flooded with realization as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, "So eventually, we're as repulsed and horrified by same sex relationships as we are Better Living Industries!" Kobra's lips mouthed along with Sandman's words.

"Yeah," Kobra nodded his head in agreement, "That makes since,"

Sandman stopped pacing to lean against the tiled walls of the shower, "So, how're we gonna, you know, get out of here alive without being disgusted by each other's presence?" he inquired.

The gears in Kobra's head started to grind as his mind went into 'Mr. Deadpan Daria Who Actually Cares About Getting Out Of This Shithole'. Or in other words, the persona he was most notorious for and had to take on whenever Poison's or Ghoul's big mouths and constant need to make out in inconvenient situations got them in trouble. 

"First off, we must always assumed we are drugged. That means no flirting, no touching, no kissing, nothing that could be considered gay," Kobra stated.

"Says the twink in a pair of tight jeans," Sandman deadpans.

"Fuck you," Kobra retorted snidely.

"What do you think I was trying to do five minutes ago?" Sandman shot back with a playful smirk on his face.

The two stood there in dead silence before they both busted out laughing. 

"Good thing we're both such bitches that we can't even attempt a cheeky make-out session without getting into a bitch off," Kobra added semi-jokingly. 

"Second off, don't consume any media provided, trust me, it's all trying to get us so desperate that we fall for the trap. Third off, don't accept any sort of food or water no matter how desperate you are to eat or drink," Kobra continued.

Sandman quirked his eyebrows in confusion, "Kid, I don't know how you zone rats are but us juviehalls tend to die without food and water..." he pointed out.

Kobra shook his head, "Don't worry Sandman, we'll be fine," he assured as he moved to get out of the shower and show Sandman what he meant.

Sandman placed his hands on his cheeks in mock-surprise, "Oh, I didn't realize you discovered the secret immorality. Please share it with me and then we'll both survive being locked in some better living sex chamber with drugged food and water!" He scowled. 

Kobra ignored Sandman's bitching and placed his feet on the glass censor on the floor so the shower door would slide open.

Sandman went on about how humans need nutrients and shit while Kobra stepped up to the medicine cabinet and pulled it open. The door revealed rows upon rows of pill bottles with the signature Better Living smile stamped onto it. 

Kobra analyzed the pill bottles until he found the label that said 'ten mg'.  A smile cracked on his face, "Aha!" he smirked then took the bottle out of the cabinet.

"Kid, I don't think viagra is gonna solve our problem. I think it will do quite the opposite, actually," Sandman quipped, he was hanging out of the shower  with a lazy smile on his tanned face.

Kobra shook his head, "Destroya, Sandman, not everything is about sex," he muttered.

"Then why did Better Living send us here?" Sandman reasoned. Kobra ignored Sandman's comment and turned around to show Sandman the bottle. Konbra popped the bottle open and emptied two white pills with little black smileys onto his hand.

Kobra could sense the tension in the room churn, as he now remembered that Sandman hadn't really had the best track record when it came to Better Living's pills. Kobra decided to cross that bridge when his boyfriend brings it up and instead began to explain why he got the pills out.

"Fun Ghoul told us that back when he was a Scarecrow, they'd give them a ten milligram dosage of their pills. It was too low to change anything with their normal pill dosages, but it had just enough chemicals so your body can live without food or water for extended periods of time. When he escaped, he grabbed tons of these pills so he could survive out in the desert. In fact, I remember using some of these myself when we were running low on power pup and Tommy Chowmein gave my crew another six month long ban," Kobra explained.

Sandman's eyes widened when he realized the kind of pills Kobra actually got out and he staggered back into the shower. The glass door slid back into place so the two were separated.

"No, Kid, you know I can't take those pills! I'll become a junkie again!" he panicked.

Kobra pressed himself against the shower door just close enough so he could be near Sandman, but no so close that the door opened. 

"Don't worry, these don't do anything  _good._ They won't get you high. They just satisfy your basic human needs!" Kobra pressed.

Sandman shook his head, "No, I'm sorry Kid but if any of this plan involves those tiny little death capsules then I'm out. Might as well take away my eyeliner and give me a girlfriend already," he rejected.

Kobra let out a sigh and dragged a hand through his hair, "If Ghoul, who was the literal king of rats, running through alleyways and putting anything in his body that felt good to him even if they had that damn smiley face on them, could live on these things for months without falling off the wagon, then you can too," Kobra insisted. 

Sandman gave Kobra a sad smile, "But are you  _sure_ that he didn't fall off? Not to be rude but you weren't exactly his go to person, that was more Party's department," Sandman doubted. 

"Sandy, I introduced them. If anything was going on with Ghoul, you bet your ass Party would've told me," Kobra assured. 

Sandman stepped out of the shower and took one of the pills in between his fingers, "Okay, your call Kid," he shrugged. 

Kobra and Sandman tapped their pills together in some sorm of a toast, "Bottoms up," Kobra announced. The two tipped their heads back, slipped the pills through their lips, and swallowed dryly. Kobra grimaced at the sick feeling of the tablet slithering down his throat. He bit back the urge to fill a glass of water to wash the bitter, sticky feeling out of his mouth. 

Kobra couldn't remember the last time he actually took pills besides ten milligram ones Ghoul gave him. He and Party grew up in a desert tribe together, when it was almost like history repeated itself and just like the US government would do with native americans, or australians with aboriginies, Better Living did a sweep through of all the big desert tribes. They killed off the adults and elderly who were old enough to remember life before the fires, and took the young to mold into perfect Better Living Model Citizens.

They treated the desert children like science experiments almost, giving them pills and different tests to see if they can 'cleanse the radiation'. By the time puberty hit, Party and Kobra were done with city life. Party felt too exposed with short plain hair, and every time a girl approached him with motives other than discussing the interogation of a crew recently brought in Party had felt like he was more so locked in an air tight closet no bigger than him (no pun intended). 

Kobra had no problem dealing with the opposite sex, the problem for him was that  _he was the opposite sex._ When he started getting lectures about boosting up hormones in order to create 'fit birthing hips' and 'considering leaving the scarecrow unit to become a breeder' he could feel his skin physically crawl off his body at the thought of become a perfect Better Living Doll. So when he was pulled aside by a Female Monitor about breast implants because he 'didn't look like a perfect girl', he was done. 

"Kobra, Kobraaaa, earth to Kobra," Kobra jumped back to reality to Sandman waving a hand in front of his face.

"Destroya, Sandman," Kobra gasped.

Sandman gave a sad smile, "Memories are a bitch, amiright?" he responded. When you know someone well enough to go through life and death together, its easy to tell when their mind takes a trip down memory lane.

"Not as big of a bitch as you are," Kobra smirked.

Sandman let out his contagious laugh that swept Kobra away in a bought of gross-happy-high feelings, "C'mere, Kid," Sandman giggled as he slung his arm around Kobra and brought him close to him.

Kobra shoved aside the fact that they were doing quite the opposite of what Kobra had said they had to do earlier, because he was so fucking emotionally exsausted and traumatised and he hadn't had a chance to just collapse and let the weight of everything that has happened take its tolls on him. It was like ever sense he woke up in that white room everuthing's been go go go, even when he was just sitting in a prison cell he still had the tension and suspense to chill his bones. 

So yes, Kobra may have been doing the opposite of what he should have, in fact he might have been stepping right into Better Living's trap. But he just needed to let himself be a twenty-something-year-old who was in love. He just needed to let Sandman press a soft kiss in his hair and thread his other arm around his waist. He just needed to have five seconds of peace where he didn't have to worry about some fucked up government fucking with his already fucked up brain.

But then it happened again.

Sandman let his lust get the best of him and started to bite into Kobra's neck, he relished at the whines and happy noises that slipped out of Kobra's lips.

But then Kobra wasn't getting kissed by his boyfriend in their bathroom. He was suddenly being attacked by a grotesque monster that dripped with color and shadows. Sandman's playful nibbling turned into attacking fangs that dug into Kobra's flesh with a sickening ache. His short messy fingernails grew into long claws that curled their way around Kobra's waist as if they were giant metal cuffs.

Suddenly Kobra didn't feel safe, he felt trapped.

Kobra's killjoy instincts snapped into motion as the long animalistic claws dug into his flesh. He peeled his head as far away from the monster's bloodstained lips as possible and slammed his head into his. The monster jumped and staggered back, starting to release Kobra's waist. Kobra then nailed a kick into the monster's stomach and it fully collapsed to the ground and doubled over in pain. It let out a monsterous roar that almost sounded like a human screaming in pain. 

Kobra snapped back to reality to see Sandman curled into a ball with his eyes glassed over screaming, "Get away from me! Get away from me! Please for the love of Destroya get  _away from me!"_

Kobra ignored the chemials in the water and turned the sink to scalding hot. He then filled up a glass with steaming water and dunked it over Sandman's face. Sandman cried out in pain as Kobra went to refil the water and dunk it over him again

"Sandy! Sandy! Wake up! It's me Kobra! It's not real Sandy, wake up! It's all fake!" Kobra rushed as he continued to splash water onto the shorter man. 

Sandman suddenly jerked then tilted his head back and let out a blood curdling screech.

Kobra couldn't bare the sight, he covered his ears and closed his eyes. He could still hear the faint sound of Sandman shrieking. Kobra felt hot tears burn through his eyelids as Sandman screamed the same thing over and over.

"Kobra!"

 


End file.
